


In Another Castle

by Ariadne_Dai



Series: Lies and Love in the Mushroom Kingdom [1]
Category: Super Mario Bros.
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Character Interpretation, Canon Related, Character Study, Gen, Gender Issues, Introspection, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariadne_Dai/pseuds/Ariadne_Dai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of a regent, a ruler, and a plumber, and of what really happens behind closed doors and castle walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Thank you, Mario! But our princess is in another castle!”_   
_—Toad, Super Mario Bros._

1.

When it happens, I’m lying in bed and my mind is racing. I’ve been up like this the last few nights, I guess, waiting for the usual guests to arrive. So far, they haven’t shown. It’s been more than a week now since I sent the message. I was very specific about the time and the place: I told him point-blank in the letter that if he didn’t move by the twenty-fifth, I’d be too heavily guarded to get at without undue bloodshed for another three weeks. And I don’t want to wait that long, if I can avoid it.

He understands these things. He doesn’t particularly like delays or mess, either. They’re inconvenient for the both of us, and he knows all too well the pain of sacrificing a loyal retainer to one’s schemes. That’s why we prefer to move in the dead of night. It’s easier to keep secrets, and it’s easier to keep lives.

Usually he’s far more punctual than this, though. I’ve stayed up the last few nights waiting for his signal, to no avail. It’s done wonders for my health, I can tell you. The first night I felt a sort of breathless anticipation, but that quickly gave way to sleeplessness and frustration. I hope the message went through all right. There’s always a chance that the bird will get snatched out of the sky by some hungry hawk, or that the messenger will stumble into a tavern brawl and take a club to the skull. Usually that doesn’t happen, but I have no way of knowing, since he tends to spring into action rather than waste time with a lengthy response.

I’m lying there, wondering whether I should actually let myself get some sleep, on the verge of turning over, writing the visit off for good and scrawling the first black mark on his previously spotless record, when I hear it. A knock on the door.

A thrill runs through me. I can hear my heart beating faster. I grin, and I cheer silently, triumphant. I knew the old scoundrel would make it happen.

“Your Majesty?” a voice whispers. The speaker knocks again. “Would you please get up, Your Highness? We don’t wish to barge in.”

“Just a moment,” I answer, slipping out of bed and sliding my feet into some old comfortable sandals. I shake the weariness off my face and begin pulling things down from various shelves and wardrobes. I’ve already laid out most of the clothes I’ll need. I’ve taken to throwing everything in an old laundry hamper I lifted from the staff.  As it turns out, it’s difficult to explain why your traveling suitcase goes missing the same night as you do. But no one ever pays any attention to the hamper.

There. That ought to be everything I need. Clothing and essentials, of course. But also few cherished knickknacks, some books I’ve been meaning to read, for passing the long voyage—no one pays much attention to my bookshelf, either—and some small items of jewelry that frame my face nicely but won’t be much missed in this room full of lavish treasures. I’ve more or less dressed, as well. “All set,” I hiss. “Feel free to come in now, gentlemen.”

They open the door slowly, a trifle awkwardly. Finally I can see who’s standing there. It’s the usual sort of crew, all soldiers armed with swords on their backs and knives in their belts. They’re only tall enough to come up to my waist, but nonetheless I’m grateful for their protection. Three of them are Koopas—good-natured, reliable young turtles. The last, concealed in a red cloak, appears to be a member of the Masked Tribe. I shiver. I’ve always found their static faces a little unsettling.

“I’m sorry to have taken so long, lads,” I tell them. “I had a bit more packing up to do.”

One of them smiles broadly. “No trouble at all, Your Highness. Are you ready to depart?”

I nod, and turn to grab the hamper. Immediately, two of them lift it up and carry it on their backs. I thank them for the generosity, and together we depart the Grand Bedroom.

As we step out of the room, I see they’ve knocked out the guards again. I feel guilty about this—as usual, they’ll blame themselves for my disappearance—but it’s better than the alternative. The fewer people who get tangled up in our little scheme, the better.

We sneak down through the palace, and it’s more of the same: unconscious Toads lie everywhere along our path. Poor creatures. I hope Toadsworth, for one, is safe in bed. We meet up with the rest of the Koopa soldiers along the way, who flash me a grin when they see I’ve joined them. The lot of us gather briefly in the downstairs foyer with a few of the officers to discuss strategy for a moment. Then we slip out through the back gardens. Apparently they’ve bribed the groundskeeper. I can’t decide whether I’ll have to fire him or raise his salary when I get back home. If I get clever enough, maybe I’ll find a way to do both.

We traipse up the surrounding hills for a while, and then finally we come to a place where a number of ponies are tied up, next to a coach with four sturdy horses. I step into the carriage, making sure to draw the curtain closed on the window behind me. A few Koopas duck in with my luggage, while the rest leap onto their steeds. And like that, we’re off.

The journey is, as expected, long and mostly uneventful. I sneak a couple of glances out the curtain once we’re away from the capital and well into open country. It’s good to see the vast green fields, stretching to the horizon. I don’t always get the chance to get out of the city. The kingdom seems to be prospering, from what I can tell. As usual, I worry about whether I’m doing it justice.

But that first night, I just sleep, and I nap several times during the voyage. I spend most of my waking hours reading _A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Mushroom_ and chatting with the soldiers. We have to stop several times, as the carriage is ostensibly delivering lakegrass to various small farming towns en route. The soldiers, with apology written on their faces, ask me to duck beneath the seat  several times during inspections by the local authorities. I’m not ashamed, though—whatever it takes to get me there without a diplomatic crisis.

Thankfully, the Koopas are constantly looking out for my needs. I feel pampered, even. They’re more than willing to pull the coach off the side of the road if I need a rest stop or a moment to stretch, and they always trade for food they know I’ll enjoy in town. We eat in the coach, but it’s an enjoyable meal among good company. True, the trip is tedious sometimes, but I know from experience that I have very little to complain about.

Finally, we come into Koopa country I know very well. We move as quickly as we can into the heart of the capital, taking some roundabout residential lanes to avoid a large fuss. And then, suddenly, we’re at the palace grounds. We meet for a moment with some of the guards at the side gate of the outer wall, and then we ride on through, into a wide moor, punctuated with solemn statues and intricate iron sculptures. In the center is the hoary old castle I know so well. I remember him telling me all about the exploits of the ancestors who built it, and I smile as we draw near to their work. It feels so good to be back. Everything about this place seems to welcome me in the manner of an old friend. It’s funny how you can grow to miss a place that used to frighten you.

They lower the drawbridge when they see us pulling up. We wait for the creaking chains to stop, and then we proceed very carefully over the boiling moat. This part always makes me nervous. I can understand that he needs to keep up his defenses, but there’s such a thing as getting too melodramatic about it. Not to mention dangerous.

But we’re inside in a moment, and the drawbridge grinds shut behind us. The soldiers grab my things and dutifully help me out of the carriage. I’m stiff and sore, as usual, but very satisfied. I made it. I’m here at last.

I’m greeted by a group of Koopa maidservants, who curtsy and welcome me most humbly to the kingdom. As the girls escort me and my things up the palace steps, my former bodyguards give me a friendly smile and a wave. Their work here is done, and now they’ll go back to their other duties. I give them a smile and my thanks. I always miss them when the journey’s done.

There’s no sign of the one I came here to see, but I’m not surprised. Grateful, even. He knows I don’t like to see him before he’s changed.

Once we’re inside, I’m shown to my usual chambers. I lie down for a moment, and then I take the opportunity to scrub the grime of the road off with a nice long shower. I let the warm water soak into my skin, and for a moment, think of nothing else. The girls help me with towels and things every step of the way, bless them. Finally, they attend to my makeup, hair, jewelry and clothing. Together we pick out one of the elegant gowns I’ve left here for these occasions, and we go down into the foyer together.

They take me to a certain door, down a hallway I know very well. There’s an old Koopa butler waiting there, and he smiles when he catches sight of me.

“Just a moment, Your Majesty,” he says kindly. “I’ll let the master know you’re ready for him.” He ducks into the bedchamber, and is back in a moment.

“And the master is ready for you as well. He asks that you please come in.” There’s a twinkle in the old fellow’s eye. “I think he’ll be most happy to see you.”

The butler opens the door, and I step in, shyly.  And there he is.

He’s standing on the steps, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes alight. I see the face I know so well—not the ugly face, but the one I’m fond of, the face which, to me, is the real one: a pale complexion, framed by long, red hair, groomed into a ponytail; warm, welcoming eyes, a sharp nose, and a broad, crooked smile. He looks fit and hearty, if a little older. He laughs gently as he meets my eye.

He comes down the steps, one at a time, as I run toward him. And then we’re there, together at last for the first time in months.

We kiss—and then Bowser, King of the Koopas, takes me into his strong arms, and we hold each other close.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

So, okay, lemme tell you a story, alright?  You mighta heard this one somewhere, I don’t know. But just in case, let’s give it another go, huh?

Once upon a time, in a magical land—I know, just listen a minute, will ya?—there was a great an noble kingdom, living peacefully and doing no harm to anybody. Then, one day, a fierce war began. The princess of the kingdom was kidnapped by a terrible fire-breathing monster, with wicked claws and hideous sharp teeth, and just about everybody in the kingdom mourned for their lost ruler.

But a brave hero emerged from outa nowhere, and promised he would rescue the poor maiden. He traveled across the world to the sorcerer’s castle, and beat the fiend in combat, one on one. He brought the princess back home to her people, and there was a great celebration. The princess promised to marry the hero, and the hero in his turn swore that he would never let darkness steal her from her kingdom again. Together, they all lived happy ever after, and that’s the end.

I know, I know—kids’ stuff, right? Like a fairy tale outa some old book. But what I bet you didn’t know is that every word of it is absolutely true. No lie. If you don’t believe it, okay. I wouldn’ta believed it myself, if you told me. Not till I got to see it for myself. Not till it happened to yours truly.

Because that hero in the story? It’sa me.

Maybe I oughta explain a little bit. Okay, where do I begin?

The real once upon a time, I guess, is back in the old country. I never really got the chance to see the place for myself—my mama was the one who would tell me stories about growing up on her father’s vineyards, working the land and living in the great outdoors. Trouble was, farming wasn’t that great of a profession those days and mostly everybody who tried it was poor as dirt. So when my mama got married, she and her husband decided they couldn’t just stay and mooch offa my grandpapa’s land. So they came over here, to the good old U.S of A. Settled down in the Big Apple, just like everybody was doing at the time. That’s how come me and my brother ended up where we are, smack in the heart a Brooklyn.

Well, anyway, to cut a long story short, that filthy bastard, my father, ended up running off with some sexy little thing with the brain of a squirrel. Whatever happened to him? You got me, I don’t know. Good riddance, that’s what I say. He left my poor mama, God in Heaven bless her soul, to raise the two of us, my brother Luigi and me, all by herself. And she raised us right. She kept us out of trouble, and taught us about the things worth believing in: love, faith, treating your neighbor right, and doing your best to make the world a little better. And she taught us also that we could always count on each other.

So we grew up under her wing and with all her love and strength. She’s been dead and gone for years now, my mama, ever since her hardworking heart finally gave out, but she lived long enough to see us open our business and start making a name for ourselves in the wide world. She was so proud of us two, I can tell you that. If there’s anything good that we’ve been able to do, we owe it all to her.

I was always on the lookout for ways to earn a little cash, and maybe learn a trade or two. So I guess that’s how I ended up working with an old plumber named Mack who lived downtown. He took me on and taught me everything he knew. A real legend, that guy—he seemed to know everything about every pipe in the city, how it all fit together, you know, like a big soggy machine. He’d even joke about a few, how they were legendary pieces of plumbing or something. These days, I kinda wonder how much he knew.

I took the business after Mack retired, and renamed it Mario’s Plumbing. A couple years after that, Luigi decided to join me, and I showed him the ropes. Seems the kid had finally decided to settle down a bit, put the sports and girls to the side. I was proud of him, and sure glad to have him aboard.

Course, the problem then was what to call the darn thing. We tried going with our last name—Miglionico Brothers Plumbing and Repairs—but nobody could spell it. So in the end, we just ended up calling ourselves Mario Brothers, even if it didn’t make much sense. Luigi didn’t care any. And by then, everybody, they knew and they trusted the name Mario.

But okay, I hear you saying, that’s not the part I needed to know. Okay, we’re getting to that. It happened some years later, after our mama had passed on. It was the weirdest thing that happened to me in my life, even in a crazy city like ours.

I was doing some a my usual kinda work down at the Navy Yard. A good place to get called over to on a Thursday afternoon. I’d been there tons of times before—good folks. I liked them, they liked me, we could count on business together. I was getting to know all those Navy boys pretty well by then.

Anyway, I was tightening up one of the outdoor spigots—this thing had broken a bazillion times already—when I saw something strange outa the corner of my eye. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but the Navy Yard, like a lot of places, has some big outdoor pipes—I’m talking big enough to walk around in and maybe even have a picnic if your friends don’t crowd around too much—that just lead out directly into the East River. Sometimes I’d be called in to patch up a leak there, even though I don’t know why they bothered, on account of it was just going into the river anyway. But hey, I’ll take whatever I get, right?

So, as I was reaching over with my wrench to tighten a bolt on a gasket, I saw one of these pipes do something really strange. It turned green.

Yeah, I didn’t know what to think, either. I looked at it again. This thing had always been the same old silver color, maybe a bita rust if you stared at it closely enough. But I couldn’ta denied it, even to myself. The pipe had just changed color right in front of my eyes. Now it was a bright green, not that sorta neon green you see in all these street signs, but a darker, kinda earthy green. Well, how about that?

I figured the gasket could wait a minute while I took a closer look. I made my way down to where the pipe stuck out over the rocks and looked inside. It wasn’t a trick of the light or anything: the pipe was really green. And a hell of a lot smoother. Not a trace of rust on it, either. Just a green pipe, looking all cheerful in how outa place it was against the faded, dirty city.

There was something else weird about it, too: I looked down the pipe and saw a white light gleaming at the other side. Hold up, I said. That doesn’t even make a little bita sense. I’d been in this pipe before: I knew it just led to some a the runoff drains upstairs. It wasn’t supposed to go straight or have anything on the other side.

I stared at it a good long while before I finally said to myself: Hell, I could just follow it.

So that’s just what I did. I had nothing to lose, right? My feet got wet as I stepped from the rocks into the pipe, but the inside seemed dry. Which was also pretty nutty. But I just kept walking forward, with my hand on the wall to keep me from slipping. It turned out to be a lot longer than I expected: at one point I was in complete darkness, with a light way behind me and way in front of me. But I figured, why turn back at the halfway point, huh? I kept feeling my way forward. I got the funny feeling all of a sudden that here, in the darkness, if I had a destination in mind, the pipe could take me anywhere I wanted to go: Harlem, the Moon, San Francisco, you name it. But nah. That had to be my crazy brain talking.

Finally I got near to the end. I could kinda see something out there: was that grass? Were those trees? I pulled out of the pipe with a kinda squelching noise and took a look around me.

Looked like I was in some kinda meadow. There was grass and dirt underneath my shoes, flowers waving in the breeze, even a blue sky with a sun shining down. At that point, I had to admit to myself that I knew jack shit about what was going on. But maybe I was okay with that. It seemed nice here.

I took a look behind me. The pipe, which was still green, was sticking outa the side of a grassy hill. But there was no way that there was enough space to fit the whole path I’d traveled. Oh well, I decided. If the pipe could take me to a whole other world, messing with physics oughta be no big deal. I started walking up the next hill, to get a better idea about where I was.

This whole place seemed unreal. Like the garden of Eden or something. It was like I’d stumbled into some land where everything was the perfect springtime. It was warm here, but it was a nice kinda warm, not that nasty summer heat we get always in the city. There was a nice little breeze blowing, but it was just blowing enough to be refreshing insteada cold. And the whole environment was as friendly as you could get. I even got the sense the flowers were smiling up at me.

From the top of the hill, I saw mostly fields of flowers and rolling countryside. But there was a gravel road a little way away, and it looked like somebody was walking on it. Maybe a couple of people. I made my way over.

I was wrong. They weren’t people—or at least they weren’t the kinda people I was expecting. They looked like—I kid you not—they looked like little mushrooms. Or what you’d get if you crossed mushrooms with people. They only came up to my waist, and they had the same sorta pale, fleshy look to their skin that you get on any kinda mushroom stalk. It was their heads that you could see it the most. Instead of hair, they just had that red cap thing growing out of their skulls, all covered in white speckles. I wondered for a second if those caps were hats, but nope. Those things were really attached there. They even had those weird gill things underneath, and they gills seemed to breathe a bit as I watched.

“Hello!” one of them said, in a bright, cheerful voice. “Can I help you with something?” He—I thought it was a he—was wearing a bright blue vest, some kinda fluffy white pants, and brown sandals. Not much else, either—underneath that vest he was shirtless. But I noticed he didn’t have anything in the way of human features there, if you know what I mean. The mushroom-man next to him wore similar clothes, the only differences being maybe the golden patterns on the vest.

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “Could you maybe tell me where the hell I am?”

“Oh dear,” said the other. “A lost traveler? You haven’t been wandering for days, have you? That would be just dreadful! I mean, you look pretty well fed, but—”

“What Enoki over here is trying to say is you’ve made it to the Mushroom Kingdom,” said the first with a smile. “As you might have guessed.  Congratulations and welcome! I’m Agaric. If you need lodgings or a place to eat, we’d be happy to help. Where are you visiting us from?’

I gaped. “Uh, Brooklyn.”

Agaric frowned. “I don’t know the place. Which kingdom is it in?”

“Kingdom?”

“You know, Beanish, Koopa, Sarasa—”

“I, uh,” I said, and stopped. “Look, you know, this is gonna sound crazy, but I think I’m not from any kingdom you know. I think I’ve come here from another world. Like a whole different universe.”

The two looked at each other for a moment. “It could be possible. I have heard a few stories before about such things,” said Enoki slowly.

Agaric nodded. “As have I. I don’t know if I’d say I believe it, but I will admit he doesn’t look like anyone else around here. Excepting, of course, the Princess and her poor family, may they rest in peace.”

“Well,” said Enoki, “we can take him to the Princess at the very least. It’s the sort of thing she ought to know about.”

“Right,” said the other. “See what she makes of him, sort of thing. We were headed into town anyway.”

Princess? Somehow I’d stumbled into some sorta fairy tale. The two creatures led me down the road, all full of excitement, filling me in about their world and their kind—they said their kinda folks were called “Toads.” There was another kinda mushroom creature, too, called the Goomba, but these were stout, armless and ugly. And maybe best avoided, too.

After walking along the path for a good long time, we found ourselves in a great city, paved with white brick. The streets were full of Toads, what I thought were Goombas, and other strange creatures, and at the center of town was a beautiful white castle. Pretty enormous, too, all filled with stained glass and sculptures. Looking up at the giant beams and the beautiful art of the palace, I had to admit, there was no way I was still on planet Earth. Something big was happening here. It was like all the stories I ever heard as a kid were coming to life right in fronta me. And damned if it didn’t feel great.

We sat around in a kinda reception hall after meeting with some more Toads, and waited for the princess to show up. Finally, there was a fanfare, and there she was, with a crowd of fancy old Toads on either side of her. A voice announced: “Her Majesty, the Princess Regent, Peach Lamella Toadstool.”

Boy, I’ll tell ya, she captured my heart right there in that moment. She was a beautiful blonde slip of a thing with golden hair rippling and curling down past her shoulders. She wore a dress as pink as a flower, sky-blue earrings and a brooch of that same color, the color of her eyes. Big, thoughtful eyes, like a cat. She had long white gloves on her hands, and a golden, jeweled crown sat on her head. From the moment I saw her, I wanted to get to know her better. I wanted to see what was behind that crown.

She seemed pretty interested in me, too, I can tell you that. She kept up a cool, distant demeanor, like a princess should do, but I remember the way her eyes lit up when she saw me. Almost like she was relieved to see another human-looking person in this crazy place. She asked me all sorts of questions about where I had come from, about Brooklyn even, and I told her the truth. She had this intense way of listening that made you feel like you were all that mattered for that moment, even like she would be thinking of you after the moment passed.

Finally, she asked to go see the place where I’d entered her world. I was worried about two things as we all left the castle: that the pipe would be gone, and that, even if it was still there, we wouldn’t be able to find it again in the endless hills. But we found it within fifteen minutes, no problem. The princess looked inside for a moment, but she didn’t go in. She seemed satisfied just to confirm my story. She told me that she would be setting a guard on this portal, maybe even disguising its location under some pretext, but she’d ensure that I could come and go as I pleased. She asked gently if I wished to return home.

I had to admit I did. If I just plain didn’t come back to the office one day, Luigi would worry, and probably a buncha other people, too. So I made my goodbyes and promised them all I’d be back soon. The last thing I saw as I turned to go back down the pipe was the princess’s smile. It was a kind smile, but a sad smile, too. I wondered what she'd lost.

When I got back, I was right back at the Navy Yard. One of the guys I was working for was standing by the spigot, looking tense. When he saw me, he started giving me a hard time about where I’d been for the last three hours. I managed to convince him that a family emergency had come up out of the blue. I told him I’d be happy to finish with the spigot today and take care of the rest of the work tomorrow. He wasn’t satisfied, but hey, he agreed.

That night, as I made my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her eyes, her body, everything. It’d been so long since I had a woman in my life. My last girl, Pauline, had broken up with me about a year ago to go steady with some ape she met in a bar. I practically hammered down her door to get her back, but she wasn’t having none of it. Well, what can you do? I had to give up and get used to going to bed alone again.

But maybe not anymore. Maybe I could do something for this princess gal. Maybe I could gain favor with her somehow. Then maybe I’d be inducted into the royal family. I could slay some mushroom ogres or something. Find the lost treasure of Mushroomopolis. Hell, I didn’t know. I just knew I could take on anything right now if she was on my side.

That evening I told Luigi all about what had happened to me. He was skeptical, and I mean really skeptical. He thought I’d flipped my lid, to tell ya the truth. But I managed to talk him into joining me at the dock the next day. I wanted to go back, of course. I wanted to see her again.

I stayed up all night worrying that the green pipe would be gone, but it was still there.  Me, I was eyeing the green pipe the whole time, but we worked on the projects I’d been hired to do for a while. I figured, since I hadn’t told anyone Luigi was coming, we’d finish in double time and be able to skip out early.  When we got done, I dragged him over to the pipe, and even he had to admit he’d never seen a pipe like that one. We walked into the darkness, with him making comments the whole time about how this was the weirdest thing he’d ever done. And maybe a few more snide remarks about how I’d lost my noodle. I ignored him—he’d see pretty soon.

We got outa the pipe, and there we were, standing in that meadow again, with the birds singing and the flowers waving in the breeze. Luigi’s jaw dropped right then and there. He stared around at the great outdoors he’d suddenly found himself in. Finally, he turned grudgingly to me. “Okay, bro. You win.”

“This is sure something else, all right,” he said slowly. “Now where’re those crazy mushroom folks? And where’s that princess you were drooling over?”

I wasn’t listening. Something was wrong. The sky was all clouded up. I smelled smoke off in the distance. And where were the guards? Weren’t there supposed to be guards? “You know, Luigi,” I told him, “I think we mighta come at a bad time.”

When we got to the city, we saw that it was in pretty bad shape. At least half of it was on fire. Toads were screaming and running everywhere. Some in groups that looked like families, some by themselves, carrying things or trying to put out their shops and houses. But the Toads weren’t alone. There were these weird creatures that kinda looked like turtles. Big green turtles about the same size as the Toads, but with hands and clothes and this weird human look in their eyes.

It was pretty clear that these guys were causing the trouble. The turtles were running around with torches and swords and spears, chasing Toads around, setting fire to the buildings, clashing with some desperate-looking Toads who also had their weapons out. There were Goombas there, too. Some of them were hanging back, looking nervous, but others seemed to be fighting on the side of the turtles. One of them knocked a Toad to the ground and snatched his spear with a gnarled talon.

“Death to the enemies of the Goomba!” bellowed the little brown goblin. “Rejoice in the utopia that is to come! All glory to the Goombaland!” He was immediately struck down by the blade of another Toad, but I saw other Goombas rushing to his aid.

The whole scene was a mess, like a nightmare. Nothing like the quiet town I’d seen the other day. One of the Toads spotted me and rushed over. It was Agaric, I realized after a moment.

“Oh, Mario!” he cried. “It’s good to see a familiar face. We desperately need aid. If you could help us drive off these rogues in any way—”

“But what’s going on?” I asked him. “Just how the hell did alla this madness start?”

“We’re at war,” he told me grimly. “As of today. It caught us all completely by surprise. The Koopa Kingdom launched a secret invasion force to ransack the city. I think they must have snuck in through the waterways. But they’ve torn apart the city, and I’ve heard rumors that they’re capturing towns in the countryside, too. It’s just awful. And the worst part is, the Princess—”

“What about the princess?” I asked, heart sinking.

“Gone!” Agaric cried. “She’s been captured! Kidnapped! That was their real goal, I think. They used their sorcery to break into the castle and dragged her off, and now we’re fighting off the soldiers they left behind. They’ve even convinced some of those filthy Goombas to rebel—”

“What can I do to help?” I said abruptly. Maybe if we got outa this mess, we could win her back.

Agaric pointed out into the square, where Koopas were matching blades with Toads. “I don’t suppose you’re any good in a fight?”

“Maybe,” I said slowly. I thought it over. Luigi and me had been in a lotta street brawls when we were younger. Even a few with each other. We’d always been athletes in school, too—it was something to do, mostly. We were both good jumpers—both of us had been good at the high jump, but Luigi’s favorite was the long jump. He’d played a little bit of basketball, too. For me the big thing was running. Our school never had what you could call a real track, but I ran laps in the gym every day for a long time. And you know, even though I was getting a little bit of a paunch, I was still in pretty good shape.

There’d been a move I always liked in a fight—it only worked if you could get on top of an opponent smaller than you. Sure seemed the case now. I took a running leap toward the nearest Koopa and did my signature stomp-kick.

The blow caught him square in the forehead and knocked him back into a wall. His limbs pulled into his shell—reflex, I guess—-as he lay there on the ground. He was out cold. He wasn’t getting back up again for a long time, if he was getting back up at all.

Another one rushed at me. I leapt at just the right moment to avoid his spear and did the same thing to him. The kick worked pretty well with Goombas, too, which I figured out when one tried to bite my leg off. Soon I was ducking blows from all sorts of Koopas and Goombas and laying ‘em flat with my old skills. Luigi glanced around the melee nervously, then joined me at my side.

With help from the Toads, we were able, within a couplea hours, to chase the turtles outta town for good. Cheers went up as we locked up the last of our prisoners and watched the rest run far into the fields. Soon Toads were pumping my hand, thanking me, embracing me with their weird rubbery arms, telling me about their families, and asking my name. Where had these tall heroes come from, they wanted to know? Agaric and Enoki had the pleasure of introducing us to everyone in town and telling the story a how they found me over and over again.

But I had other things on my mind. “Which way did they take her?” I asked Enoki sharply.

“To the northwest, I think,” he stammered, “in the direction of the Koopa Kingdom. But Mario, they were traveling by carriage—you’ll never be able to catch up with them in time—”

“Then I’ll keep following them until they get there, and I’ll knock down their door and make them give her back,” I said roughly.

“Listen, Mario,” said Agaric awkwardly, “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with here. Their leader is Bowser, the Koopa King. He’s not the sort of guy to make compromises. He’s a bloodthirsty warlord and a learned sorcerer—”

“Look, no matter what, I have to take him on, you know?” I said. “Besides, what can he bring to the fight that I don’t got—”

“He’s also a nine-foot-tall fire-breathing demonic monster with razor-sharp fangs who bristles with horns and spikes,” added Enoki helpfully.

“Oh,” I said, kinda taken aback. Then suddenly I felt another surge of confidence. “Doesn’t matter. There’s gotta be some way to defeat him, even if it’s maybe a long shot. I’ll fight monsters, I’ll fight anybody.”

“Bro,” said Luigi, putting a hand on my shoulder, “are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying? You wanna follow this monster back to his castle, knock on his door, and take him on? Like it was some kinda wrestling match? With alla his guards and whatnot trying to stop you? That’s the plan?”

“Well, yeah, ” I said, flushing red. It sounded so stupid when you put it like that. “Look, I know it doesn’t seem all that easy. But what else are we gonna do, let the monster make off with her? This is the right thing to do, I know it is. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I turned back now, you know? And we took down those Koopas okay. So there’s gotta be a chance. We have to try. I have to try.”

Luigi was nodding slowly. “I think I understand. This is something you have to do, right?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“Well,” he said, “you can count me in. I’ll be behind you every step of the way, bro. You need any help with any of this, you just let me know.”

“Thanks,” I said, honestly grateful. “That means a lot, bro.”

“And you two don’t have to go this alone, either,” said Agaric thoughtfully. “Let me talk to the royal advisors. There may be something we can do for you.”

By evening, we had a party of five, a number of horses and ponies, food and water to last us for a few days’ travel, maps and charts to help point our way across the strange landscape, and all sortsa armor and magical weapons to help us in any fight that came up along the way. The Toads who accompanied us were some of the best in the royal guard, skilled trackers and experts on navigating the wilderness. Together, we rode like the wind through the Mushroom Kingdom.

A lotta fighting went down in that time. In every town we visited, there were Goombas and Koopas trying to stop us from getting to Bowser. It was me that did most of the actual fighting, with a little help from Luigi. Once I introduced those clowns to my special techniques, they went down pretty darn fast. Even when we ran into their sorcerers, those weird Koopas in robes, I was able to dodge their fireballs and shrug off any spell they tried to put on me. Maybe it was just me being from another world and all. Who knows? But the more I fought, the more I knew I could take on the Koopa King.

We asked around, when the fighting was done, about the king and his captive—had they been seen in the area? Usually we weren’t too far off. We stayed pretty close on Bowser’s heels the whole time, but he just kept getting away from us. Once we got into Koopa territory, not only did the crowds turn more hostile, but the Koopas started employing some more nasty tricks. Our informants would tell us that Bowser was hiding in some old Koopa castle, and we’d go there and infiltrate, all careful and all, and we’d find we missed him by only hours. This happened over and over again, more times than I care to count. It was like he was toying with us, or trying to pull some big distraction until he got into the perfect stronghold.

Eventually, he stopped kidding around, and settled down where we always knew he’d been planning to go: the royal palace, right in the heart of the Koopa capital. Two layers of walls, a blazing moat, traps with fire and lava everywhere, and more armed Koopa guards than you could count. We had our work cut out for us, huh?

But we were prepared. All throughout the journey, the Toads had been gathering whatever magical supplies they could get their hands on. There were all sorts of useful things to be found, especially in the Koopa wilderness: flowers that shot bursts of flame, crystals that could keep blows from landing for a little while, even mushrooms that gave you a burst of raw strength. When we made our assault on the castle, I was armed with all that stuff and more, including a ring that protected me from fire and a cape that could redirect it.

Our strategy was pretty darn simple, but real effective, too. Luigi and the Toads went up against the guards as a diversion, while I snuck in through a side entrance and made my way to the heart of the castle. Of course, I probably faced even more resistance myself. I had to pick my way through all these tricks and traps, all while fighting off a horde of all kinda crazed fire monsters. It was pretty intense, lemme tell you.

But finally I came to this giant hall where a long bridge over boiling lava stood between me and the other side. And there he was, blocking my path. The demon himself.

Boy, he was an ugly son of a bitch, I can tell ya that. Just as many fangs and claws and spikes as they’d always said—hell, if his own spikes weren’t enough, he was even wearing two rings of them on each arm. He looked like the biggest, ugliest amphibian I’d ever seen, something like a dragon and a tortoise and an ox all rolled into one, with a face like a dog’s ugly snout. When he roared an earthshattering roar, maybe he thought he’d curdle the blood in my veins.

But no way in hell was I gonna be afraid.

It was a long fight, but I’d prepared for it pretty well. We went back and forth, ducking and dodging each other, each trying to lay the other guy down for the count, or knock him off the bridge. He was good, but I was good, too. He’d blast me with fire, I’d knock it back at him, I’d launch a spell at him, he’d shrug it off. He only drew blood a couple of times, and never did more than graze me: I was mostly able to keep those nasty claws away with some spell or another. Both of us were tiring fast.

Finally, I found myself on the other side of the bridge, where a nasty blow had smashed a huge chunk out of it. It hit me that I still had an explosion spell on me. He saw me lift it up, and his eyes widened as he realized what I was gonna do. He made a desperate lunge for me, but it was too late. The bridge was blown open, and crumbled completely, sending Bowser plummeting into the lava below.

My heart was pounding, and I lay on my back, grinning and thanking high Heaven. I’d done it. The beast had been slain.

What I didn’t know then was that Bowser was a creature born and raised in fire. I couldn’t kill him with lava any more than I could kill a turtle with water. But it didn’t matter just then. I’d saved the princess, just like I had planned.

I found her in the next room, tied to a chair, looking ashen, but otherwise unharmed. I untied the ropes without any trouble at all. She asked me where Bowser was, but I could tell she already knew. “Defeated, Your Majesty,” I replied, kneeling to kiss her hand. She accepted, and rose very slowly, shakily, from her seat. Then she took my hand, and I squeezed hers. It was time to go home.

The celebration when we returned home lasted for days. Toads filled the streets, cheering us as we passed. Banners and balloons were strewn everywhere. The Koopa war criminals were punished, and Luigi and I were awarded medals of honor from the kingdom. I saw a twinkle in the princess’s eye as she gently placed mine around my neck. I thought I knew what that look meant.

And that’s the story of how I travelled to a whole other universe and saved the princess of a magical land. Pretty crazy stuff, huh? But it’s true. Luigi and me cut back our business and spend most of our time here these days. Who knows, we might just move here permanently, just in case that portal decides it doesn’t want to stay open any more.

And me and her majesty the Princess Peach, well, we got together, just like I was hoping. You mighta guessed it’d turn out that way, huh? You can’t save a girl from a monster without gaining at least a little respect in her eyes. We’re on a first-name basis, now. She rules the kingdom, and I give her something extra to look forward to whenever that gets to be too much to bear. And lemme tell ya, it’s every bit as great as I thought it would be.

But, like I said, that scoundrel Bowser just won’t leave her alone. He kidnapped her again when we were least expecting it, and I saved her and brought her back, just like before. But these days it keeps happening over and over again. One night, she’ll be all snug in her bed, the next, some Koopa thugs’ll sneak in and carry her away. Time after time after time. Just disgusting. But I guess you can’t reason with a demon like that. Sounds like he had a thing for her, years ago, and he’s still carrying a torch. But I’m not gonna dwell on it. She’s put him behind her now, and if he can’t see that she’s found somebody new, then that’s just a problem with his messed-up monster head.

And I’ll be happy to smash that head to the ground whenever he thinks he can threaten our beautiful kingdom. That’s what I’ve decided. Wherever he strikes, I’ll be there to ward it off. No matter how many times evil shows its ugly face, I’ll keep chasing it back into the filthy hole it crawled out of. I’ll be there for this land, whenever its people need me. It’s not a matter a choice. It’s my destiny. I’m honored to be the protector of this kingdom.

What gets to me, though, is the way people talk sometimes these days. Like she’s into the fiend or something. I’ve even heard some Toads talking like she wants to get kidnapped or something, so she can see him. That’s just disgusting. I know the truth. She’s told me, over and over again, that she hates the sight of the creature, and nothing could be further from her mind.

I guess people will spread filthy rumors everywhere, huh? Those sorta people oughta be—well, they oughta get what’s coming to them, that’s all I’m gonna say. Of course, the bastard uses all this to his advantage. One time he had the gall to claim that he’d had had a kid with her, and told me this grimy little turtle-thing was their son. But I exposed his plot pretty quickly. Makes me sick to think about it, really.

But, like I said, I try not to dwell on the trash people say. Peach and I are happy together. That’s all that matters. It’s a good life, here in the Mushroom Kingdom. I thank God every day that whatever crazy phenomenon brings two universes together, it brought ours into alignment. Peach and I share a great kingdom together—I’ve even helped her run it a bit. One of these days, I think she and I are gonna get married—that’s how the story goes, after all. And that sounds just fine to me.  

Luigi’ s started going out with Peach’s cousin, a princess in the next country over, a gal named Daisy. So, maybe the two of us’ll end up part of the royal line. How about that, an Italian dynasty. And maybe I’ll be able to take over for the Mushroom King when he finally passes on. Not to blow my own horn or nothing, but I think I could make a good Mushroom King, with Peach my queen. Her and me, making this strange little mushroom world a better place. Yeah, that sounds nice. So forget the rumors and ignore whatever lies get told. The way I see it, she and I are headed for Happily Ever After.

I know she would never betray me.


	3. Chapter 3

3\. 

What you have to understand is that I never meant for any of this to happen.

I know, I know—it’s easy to say that after the fact, to make excuses for the things you let slip, the promises you failed to keep. You’re right, of course. I have to live up to my own responsibilities, and my own lapses and failures thereof. I wish I could say that I’d done better in life, made fewer mistakes. It might be easier to look at myself in the mirror.

But what I mean is that it was never my intention to be malicious or cruel. Honestly. I never made a conscious choice to pursue two very different men and play them against each other. I’m no seductress; I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I didn’t, you know, wake up one morning and decide that I ought to start a tangled love affair that would ensnare the lives of two men, at least one child, and the populations of two enormous kingdoms. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to break hearts or inspire passions or do any of the things that the stories in the street have attributed to me.

It all just sort of happened.

Sometimes I wonder if I could have done anything differently. It’s a difficult question to answer, for if I had never been the kind of person who could have fallen in love with the sovereign of the Koopas, I wouldn’t be the kind of person who could set down these words. I wouldn’t be myself, but someone else. A frightening thought. But maybe another ruler would have been better-equipped to solve the problems that lay before her. Maybe another ruler would have avoided all of this mess.

All this is running through my mind as I lie here, tangled up in the sheets of a luxurious bed. Out of breath and gazing at the ceiling, wondering if any of these castles will really feel like home. Sometimes I think I only exist in motion, always travelling from one place to another. Never resting. Never truly where I am.

A gentle touch interrupts my reverie. I turn and see a familiar face, gently smiling at me. And those long familiar arms, that familiar torso. Bowser lies next to me, his long red hair almost as matted and tangled as my own. I catch his eye, and his smile breaks into a grin.

“How are you doing?” he asks softly.

I inch closer to him so that we’re right up against each other, and place my hand into his. “Very well, thank you for asking.”

“Everything’s all right?”

“Yes,” I say.  “Just thinking. You know how I am, lost in my own head. It’s no reflection on you. You were impeccable, as always.”

He laughs. “Why, thank you, Your Highness. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Before we know it, the two of us are deep in conversation once more, talking, laughing, sharing all the great stories that have had the time to pile up since we’ve last seen each other. I tell him about the new art installation that’s been planned for the east garden, about the loopy and bizarre architect who’s been designing it. He tells me of a recent scandal that rocked the nobility, a money-laundering ring with several prominent dukes as its patrons, that ultimately required him to step in and deliver a fiery judgment. We marvel at the vagaries of politics and the arts, and congratulate each other on navigating through their snares.

“It’s good to see you,” he says suddenly, squeezing my hand.

I nod. “I’m glad you were able to move by the twenty-fifth after all.”

“Yes, indeed,” he says. “My apologies that this was all so last-minute for you; I know it must have been stressful. The crisis among the dukes kept me busy until the last possible moment.”

“Nothing to worry about,” I tell him. “Such things happen. I’ve already put it from my mind.”

“I’m glad. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“Yes, absolutely. I got a good bit of reading done, and your soldiers were more than helpful. I particularly liked that fellow with that odd mark on the upper part of his shell—”

“You must mean Testudine,” he says, with a smile. “Yes, he’s a good turtle. A dependable soldier. I’m glad he was able to make time for this mission.”

“Definitely. How’s the kingdom holding together? Now that the crisis is over, I mean. Do you still have that gardener I liked, working at the lake? Chelys?”

“Yes, although I had to discharge his supervisor. You might remember him.”

“Progano? No! Really? He seemed like such a sweet old tortoise!”

“That’s what I thought, too. But it turned out that he was embroiled in the whole scheme. Sad to say, I had to let him go.”

He stretches out a bit with a yawn. “And what of your place? How are things going in your court?”

I think for a minute. “About the same as ever, I suppose. Same old conflicts, same old angry voices in the streets. You know how it is. I just keep on doing my best to make sense of it.”

“I do. You know, I keep telling you, you’d get rid of at least half of that if you allowed the Goombas a little more autonomy. They don’t have the chance to build farms and lives for themselves under your system. That’s why they’re all flocking to my territory. I’ve given them a better offer.” He grins.

I laugh. “Are we going to get into this debate again? I’ve told you, I need  those goods. Goomba labor keeps industry and agriculture running for the country. If I tried to force it onto the Toads at all, they’d have a fit.”

He holds up his hands in mock defeat. “All right, all right. No politics. It is all exactly as you say.” We laugh. For a moment we’re both silent. Then his gaze darkens. “And what of that mustachioed carpenter of yours? Is he still lurking about the premises?”

I roll my eyes. “You always get that wrong. He’s a plumber; he hasn’t been a carpenter in years. But to answer your question, yes, I’m still seeing him.”

“I’m not trying to intrude,” he says quietly. “I just hope that it wasn’t too terribly difficult for you to get away.” 

I sigh. “Oh, god, sometimes it really is. Sometimes he gets these ideas into his head, like appointing guards for my bathroom, or putting bars on my bedroom window. Often I can talk him out of them, but he can be as stubborn as a mule. But this time I managed to work around him.”

“Why not just plan your escape for when he’s out of town?” he suggests.

“That would just cause more problems than it solves. He already thinks it’s his duty to protect me. If he got the idea into his head that his presence could make the difference, he’d never leave me alone. It’d be a nightmare.”

He nods, sympathetically. “I can see that. Well, I applaud your efforts regardless.”

“Thanks,” I say, a little embarrassed to think about the whole charade.

“And how…” His question emerges slowly, as if he doesn’t quite know how to ask it. “And how is your father doing?”

I stare up at the ceiling for a minute or two. “He’s…he’s about the same as ever. Hard to detect any change.” I think about the last time I looked in on him, on Friday, how thin and wraith-like he looked, like a root pulled up from deep underground. How he had aged into some ancient creature that I could scarcely recognize, an emaciated figure that hardly bore any resemblance to the father I knew.

His gaze is deeply sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. Me too. I wish I could do something about it. That’s what hurts the most, that I can’t.”

“He was a good man, your father.”

“Yes. He was.” I lie there, staring up at the ceiling again, and suddenly it all seems so intertwined. Losing my father—well, that was where all of this mess really began.

I remember having a pretty happy childhood. And a pretty normal one, as much as you can be normal when you’re the heir to a kingdom. I was content to run around the white halls of the palace with my friends, laughing and giggling, playing games like tag and hide-and-seek, and various ball games which always ended in a stern reprimand to play outside, because for crying out loud, we had the whole palace gardens to use, and I wanted to go around knocking statues off of their pedestals?

I had many people in my life, despite the isolation that comes with my lineage—and for that I am very thankful. My closest friends were those Toads who attended lessons with me, who rolled their eyes as I did when the instructors drilled us on the major exports of Sarasaland and the population of the eastern steppes and the nature of dream-magic. Though I knew a couple of boys, I mostly ran around with the girls—or at least, those who declared themselves girls. (Toad reproduction is complicated.) We would laugh and share secrets and tell stories, and for a time, I would forget that I was the heir to the throne and would one day have responsibilities to shoulder.

My parents were around then, too. The three of us were very close—it felt to me at times that all I needed was to stay with them forever, because together, our little band could take on the world. I remember them well: my mother with her long dark hair, tall and stately in all the royal portraits, yet always tender with me, always ready with a kind word. My father, his blond hair thinning and graying but still a splash of color in any setting, short and doughy but firm of will and unfailingly generous, a courageous leader for the kingdom. I miss them both very much.

When I was little, the political nature of their lives escaped me. I knew that my father was an important man, that they both had important duties to attend to, but I had no idea how profoundly their politics would affect my life. I played as they settled matters of tax and trade, and, as I grew older, I read from the royal library. I was always a great reader—I loved historical novels, romances, fantasies, tales of adventure and daring. Nonfiction, too—I don’t think I’d ever have noticed the real world if I hadn’t stumbled across so many interesting books about it.

By the time I was old enough to be paying attention to such things, our nation had become embroiled in a war. It was a complicated matter of succession in a kingdom to the north, the Bean Kingdom. We had supported one candidate, but another took power through force, and before long our army had been called into a foreign land. With adolescent eyes, I watched my father hold secret councils, discuss strategy with commanders in heated meetings, sweat over troop formations and strategy, study maps and reports by candlelight in the dead of night.

At last a treaty was drawn up between our nations, and the matter was settled. I thought it was all over and done with. I was wrong. Incredibly so.

One afternoon, just after the signing of the peace accord,  I bumped into a strange man while wandering the halls of the castle. He was one of the Beanish folk, with pale green skin and that odd, stretched face. He asked me where I might find the king and queen.

I answered honestly, telling him that their offices were up by the northeastern tower, but they might also be in the royal chambers closer to the northwest. He thanked me and departed.

That night, as I was getting up for a drink of water, I spotted him again. From the little alcove that separated my bedroom from the corridor, I could just barely see his familiar figure at the bottom of the stair. I wondered what he was doing here—had he stayed in this castle for an entire day? I thought of calling out to him, but then he did something rather strange.

He took out a bag from his pocket and put a jeweled necklace around his neck, muttering strange, incomprehensible words. Then his body began to twist and change. His face spread outward into a ravenous set of jaws. His limbs rippled and surged with muscle, and he fell to all fours. A tail burst out from his trousers, and spikes bristled all over his body. In moments, there was no trace of the elegant youth I had seen. An enormous monster stood at the foot of the stairs.

I froze where I was, and watched the beast make its way up the steps, drawing closer and closer to the alcove. I was sure it was going to kill me as soon as it reached me. I thought of drawing back into my room, but I was afraid of making any noise that would alert it. But the terrible jaws, dripping with saliva, moved right past me. Either the beast hadn’t noticed me, or it wasn’t interested. I wasn’t sure, but I almost thought it had flashed me a wicked grin as it passed by.

I realized it was heading for my parents’ bedroom at the top of the stairs. Oh good, I thought giddily, Mom and Dad will know what to do, they’ll be alert, they’ll know how to kill this thing—

There was a thunderous crash of wood as the beast burst down the oaken door.  Then, hideous screams rose above the beast’s howls. I knew those voices. Guards clamored up the stairs, rushing past me. But by then, it was too late.

By the time the funeral was held, we all knew the truth. The assassin had been a Beanish loyalist, angry with the Mushroom King and Queen for the treaty they had forced upon the Bean state. He was hanged the next day, and his magical weapons confiscated.

But that could not bring my parents back. My mother had been killed within seconds, her throat torn out. My father was not so fortunate. The beast’s claws had carried a vicious curse, trapping him between life and death. The greatest medical experts in the nation were called upon to attend him, but even they could not prevent him slipping into a dull slumber. I watched his body waste away, day after day, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. My father wasn’t coming back.

By our laws he was still king while he lived. But all accepted that he was in no fit state to rule. And so, three days after the assassination, I took the crown as regent, on a cloudy day that felt like the world was coming to an end.

I did my best to inspire the people, to give speeches of hope and renewal that would heal the national wounds. But inside, I felt none of what I was saying. I was still grieving—I felt like I would always be grieving—and on top of that I had been thrust into a role I had never fully anticipated. I had been given the reins to a country, with no idea what to do with them.

Thankfully, I had the support of a number of loyal advisers, old Basidio Toadsworth chief among them, who were more than happy to guide me through the process of ruling the kingdom. Patiently and with a great deal of love, they taught me about taxation, about international affairs, about all those subjects which I had vaguely observed in my parents’ lives yet never delved into on my own. And so, bit by bit, I began to feel like I could run a kingdom. Or, that even if I failed, I would at least be able to claim I had done my research.

That said, it wasn’t a particularly happy time in my life. I could no longer pretend to be an ordinary girl, without cares or responsibilities. All of my Toad friends had gone off to other lives, other duties. They were all my subjects now, rather than my companions. I had to be something separate from them, reserved and other. And there was no one I could share my frustrations with. I felt terribly alone.

It was a matter of duty, the Toad advisers told me. The kingdom had to be kept running; the old ways had to be given my utter devotion. Otherwise, everything would fall apart: the common people would be thrown into panic and confusion, and the Mushroom Kingdom’s very identity would crumble to ruins. So I did everything that duty asked of me. I hosted balls and fancy dinners where every minute detail of etiquette was rigidly upheld, attended sporting events, built art galleries and gardens, donated to the theatre and to charitable causes, gave rousing speeches to my people about the triumphs and tragedies of the nation. Was every inch a ruler. Or so it must have seemed.

Everywhere I went, I wore essentially the same royal outfit: an ornate dress, long white gloves, hair carefully curled, face carefully composed, sky-blue earrings and brooch. I felt like I was wearing a costume, like I was dressed up as a ruler instead of being one. Only in the privacy of my own bedroom did I feel like I was actually myself.

I was still so young, then. Am still pretty young, as these things go. When I took the throne I think—yes, I must have still been a teenager then. A wide-eyed kid, with no more experience of the world than a newborn lamb. How did I manage it? How did I keep everything from falling apart?

I still had the satisfaction of reading. I spent most of my spare time in the great library, poring over everything on the shelves. I still enjoyed adventures and grand tales, but I’d recently taken an interest in philosophy, too. I would stay up late reading about the origins of the world, and the nature of logic and our senses. Particularly interesting to me were the political philosophers—as someone with a stake in government, I was fascinated by Alpto’s description of a perfect state in _Kalliopolis,_ and Stolet’s discussion of citizens in _Ethics of the City._

But there was little in my life to distract me from my worries and fears. Ruling the kingdom, admittedly, took up most of my time. I would wake up and spend most of each day attending to matters of state. In the early mornings and late evening I might pore through a few of the library’s tomes at my bedside. And that was all I had. It wasn’t enough, but I didn’t know what else I could do. I didn’t know to find what I was looking for.

Then, one day, an answer arrived.

I’d been looking into the works of Ripedeu, renowned playwright and scholar, and to my very great annoyance found that our collection was incomplete. For some reason or another, the royal library only possessed the first volume of his _Mathematica_ and the second play in his _Psilocybin_ trilogy. Hardly enough to get a coherent picture of the man. How disappointing—Alpto had spoken so highly of his work. Unacceptable, I decided. There had to be some way I could get my hands on the missing volumes.

So I wrote to the leaders of several other kingdoms—some of which I only really remembered from my lessons in international diplomacy—expressing my interest in the author and inquiring if they might have his works. Some sort of book exchange might be profitable for both of us, I suggested. I didn’t really know if it would work. I hardly knew my royal contemporaries, save a cousin who I had spent a few summers with and remembered in a vague sort of way.

At first I thought the experiment had failed: most of the foreign dignitaries I contacted didn’t even reply, although my cousin and a few others wrote back, apologetically, that they didn’t seem to have the books in their collections. So it wasn’t to be. Damn.

Then, a few days later, a courier arrived at the palace with an massive parcel for me. When my advisors and I opened it up, we found several enormous tomes, clad in iron, and a single envelope with a letter folded neatly inside.

_To her Majesty Peach Toadstool:_

_It isn’t often that I encounter a sovereign with the breadth of learning to have heard of Ripedeu, much less the philosophical zeal to take an interest in his work. As such, I have no qualms whatsoever about passing these volumes on to you, for I know that you will engage with these dialogues and tales with all the intellectual rigor they deserve. I am certain you will be that ideal audience which, as the old philosopher himself said, “listens closely to what is said and gives question to all matters, yet never insists on an expected answer.”_

_My compliments on your good taste. I first encountered the_ Psilocybin _plays as a youth, growing up in a castle where everyone seemed to be obsessed with ritual and ceremony. Ripedeu’s brilliant examination of the ancient cult of Psilocybin helped me very greatly to make sense of that. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who takes an interest in such subjects. Even if you do not experience the emotional attachment to these plays that I did, it is my hope that you nonetheless find something valuable and meaningful within their pages._

 _By the way, you say that you first came across Ripedeu in a reference in an odd work of Alpto’s. I assume you’ve read his_ Kalliopolis _? What did you make of his chapter on the role of magic-users in a civil society? As something of a sorcerer myself, I have a vested interest in the subject. I found his analysis compelling, but I’d question a few of his definitions._

_Yours in literature and friendship,_

_King Bowser Adwaite Von Koopa_

Snatching up a quill, I replied as soon as I had the chance:

_To His Majesty King Bowser Von Koopa:_

_I can’t thank you enough for helping me track the lauded Ripedeu down. I was almost convinced I would never get to lay eyes upon the body of work Vid Muhe calls “the single most important influence in the development of ancient philosophical thought.” When your copies arrived, I could have danced right where I was standing. Thank you._

_It means a great deal to me that you would be willing to send your precious tomes to a fellow reader—I understand what kind of sacrifice a book can be to part with, believe me! As such, I will do my utmost to take care of them and devote myself to them, indeed, in the manner of Ripedeu’s proverbial reader._

_I’m even more eager to read the trilogy after your glowing description—I’ll be sure to share my thoughts with you once I’ve finished. I well know the feeling of reading a book that changes your outlook on the world. Certain essays of Stolet’s have done that for me—and even more so, I confess, certain historical novels by Hearst Millway. I anticipate I’ll find these an equally affecting read._

_Incidentally, I quite like Alpto’s idea that magicians are the guardians of the physical universe in which a society must be constructed. But I do question his insistence that this gives them hegemony over their fellow citizens in the fashion of monarchs or even officers of the law._

_Yours likewise,_

_Peach Toadstool_

Bowser’s long reply featured, among many other things, a brilliant analysis of the nature of hegemony, as Alpto constructed it, and the advantages and disadvantages of such an outlook. In his own life, Bowser said, he had found Alpto’s political theories both enormously helpful and maddeningly counterproductive. I smiled and scrawled that I could certainly relate.

And so a wonderful conversation sprang up between the two of us. We dove headfirst into the depths of philosophical discourse, taking on just about every great thinker known to civilization. At times we were in perfect agreement, but just as often we would find ourselves in a heated clash. We could debate on any topic, from such noble philosophical themes as love and mortality to the tiniest, most insignificant detail of a historian’s argument. Our envelopes grew ever thicker as our letters became entirely too long, enormous missives that went on for pages and pages, each of us examining every facet of the other’s argument. Books flew back and forth between us, and words rose up from our writing tables like smoke.

Slowly, something began to happen.

It started innocently enough, with anecdotes—each of us giving the other advice on taxation, land rights, managing the work force, telling stories from our own experience as rulers. Of course, having been in his position longer, my friend always had far more wisdom to share than I—but I surprised him a time or two with my insights. And I was glad to have a mentor who could teach me about governance in a practical way,  beyond the theories the stuffy Toads had taught me.

But soon there came a time—without either of us quite knowing how it happened—when instead of talking about our lives in an abstract, disinterested way, we found ourselves sharing every detail, each eager to hear the other’s response to our everyday experiences. The anecdotes reshaped themselves into stories and explanations, into confidences and confessions.

I began to confide in Bowser. I told him about my loneliness, about the loss of my parents, about how lost I felt sometimes, how I feared I would never be as good a ruler as my father had been. I told him things I’d never told anyone else: how my Toad friends and I had once escaped our guardians and snuck away to a nearby stream where we caught crawdads and butterflies, and somehow we managed to sneak home before sunset before anyone noticed we were gone. How I could no longer look those friends in the eye, or even really speak to them, now that they had grown to become dukes, mayors, administrators at best, and at worst, rank and file Toads of the streets.

And he listened. He listened in a way I knew none of my advisors ever would, even Toadsworth, to whom I felt closest. He wrote back with thought and care, always ready to share some insight that would help me get through one more day, yet never insisting that I do things his way, gladly falling quiet when I needed him to. He was sorry, he told me, about the death of my parents: they had been great and visionary leaders, and he had mourned with many other sovereigns the loss of such a brilliant king and queen.

He had attended my mother’s funeral, though he doubted I would remember seeing him there. I told him I had been too distraught to pay the least attention to the menagerie of diplomatic guests that filed by me. He wrote that it was perhaps for the best that we didn’t meet then. “But I remember seeing you there,” he told me, “sitting in the front row, looking so terribly sad, and I wished very much that I could do something to help you.”

I smiled and scrawled back: “You’re helping now.”

Bowser was no stranger to grief. He, too, had been thrust into power at a young age, his parents having died in a series of dynastic struggles when he was a small child. After the fighting had ceased, a council of Koopa dukes had declared him ruler from the surviving heirs, and the boy king had been forced to learn how to manage the nation that was his inheritance.

“Of course, they all hailed my rise as a great national omen,” he wrote, “for it’s always been held that a king who governs young brings forth a prosperous nation. For me, though, it meant that I had to step into that world that had murdered everyone I had trusted and loved. I resisted the role a long time. But finally, I decided it was best to turn it to my advantage.”

He had married at the cusp of adolescence, as was the custom for child-kings: the dukes wanted to bring forth new heirs as soon as possible. To this end, he had been wedded to the daughter of a powerful duke. “She was never very happy in her role,” he admitted. “She never wanted to be a queen, a glorified machine for making Koopa children. She wanted to run wild and swim in the rivers and lakes of her father’s estate, and stay with her old friends and lovers. She never hated me, but I was always in the way of the life she was really after.”

Only a few years after the queen bore the royal line several children, she died. Doctors said it was a stroke, but Bowser knew it had been her own secret sadness.  She had not really wanted to live, he told me, and he had asked himself, over and over with no answer, if he could have done anything to change that.

“Of course,” he wrote bitterly, “by then the dukes had taken the children from us, each wanting, I suppose, to claim some small part of the Koopa line as their own. They live there still, jealously guarded as heirs, and I can scarcely say that know them at all. We see each other only for ceremonial reasons, during holidays, and for a few weeks in the summer. I wish I could have seen them grow. The stone walls of the castle are cold and lonely these days, when there’s no one around but myself to fill them. 

At this point he seemed to grow embarrassed. He hoped, he said, that he had not said too much, that these confessions would not bring an end to our conversation—I think both of us were just starting to acknowledge the unnamed feeling hovering between us. “Of course not,” I wrote back, but I did have to stop and take a moment to think.

So the king I was writing to was a widower with children. Well, that was a bit unexpected, yes, but there was nothing wrong with writing to him, was there? He’d been honest with me about the events of his life, and I admired the way he had steered a course through them. And he wasn’t really that much older than me, not when you took into account the fact of how young he had been when he married. I could easily imagine my life turning out the same way, if the Toads had met with more success in their search for a suitor. Really, we were so much alike in other ways, that these differences between us seemed the most trivial things in the world.

And that was what I told Bowser. I received a grateful response a week later. He was very glad, he said, to know that our conversation would continue. Our shared inquiry meant the world to him, and he could not bear the thought of losing it. I told him I agreed.

It was then, I think, that we were able to acknowledge that romance was blossoming between us.

I don’t remember which of us first used that word, or words of that nature. Somehow it just seemed the most natural thing in the world to begin thinking that way. And so our words grew affectionate, our images grew rich with hidden meaning, and each of us began to write about the other’s heart.

We were awkward and ridiculous at first, of course. Hopeless intellectuals that we were, we wrote long, absurd letters filled with sonnets and quatrains, penned vast passages comparing each other to the great lovers and heroes of ancient times. You know, the most melodramatic, overly-verbose sap you could imagine. But we were young and hopeful enough to mean it, all of it. And that was no small thing.

Our conversation changed everything for me. I could never even have imagined myself carrying on a correspondence with a brilliant and witty gentleman who actually wanted to hear from me, who cared about me deeply and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. And yet, here I was, receiving long, passionate letters by the week from his kingdom. How did I get so lucky?

The knowledge that I had a secret suitor warmed me like a flame in the heart. I walked through the palace grinning from ear to ear, carrying my secret like a charm. And for the first time, I faced the task of ruling the kingdom without fear. Sometimes Bowser’s advice helped me to solve the nation’s problems, sometimes not. But that wasn’t the point. It was just good to know that he was there, ready to lend an ear. To know that even if I screwed up, there would be someone out there rooting for me. With Bowser on my side, I knew I could guide my land to prosperity and peace.

I remember that time so vividly. The scene is still alive in my memory: each of us waiting by the mailroom for that moment when an envelope would fall into our hands with the other’s seal. Each of us would slit it open and read the letter’s magnificent passages and articulate analysis, laugh at some witticism, smile, and take out pen and paper to respond with our own insight, be it sweet new term of endearment or philosophical counterpoint— _here, dear friend,  is what I think, now what do you say to that?_ —send it off into the wind, and know that we were not alone.

It was only natural that we began to discuss meeting in person. We danced around the idea for some time, saying things like, I’m sure I’ll get the chance to visit your castle sometime, I’m sure I’ll get the chance to see those opal earrings of yours—and so on. Finally, I made it explicit. “We should meet,” I wrote. “I’d like to see you and talk with you in person. I think we’d both enjoy that, don’t you?”

His reply was a bit delayed, but it came. “I’d be delighted. I think you’re absolutely right. We’ve overburdened the poor messengers; no longer should we expect the mail to carry the weight of all our words across the miles between us. Time, at last, to close the gap. And I know just the place to meet. Just give me a little while to prepare.”

“You don’t have to be responsible for everything,” I told him. “If it would help for me to make the arrangements, I’d be happy to save you the trouble.”

“No, no, no need,” he wrote back in a distracted way. “Leave everything to me.”

The place he had in mind, as it turned out, was a retreat center nestled deeply in the mountains on the southern part of our shared border. Nominally, the cabins and the beautiful wood belonged to Bowser’s family, but in practice, having been loaned out to Koopa merchants, it was more often used as a resort by the gentry of both our kingdoms. It was the perfect opportunity for Bowser to pull some strings and give us a retreat all to ourselves. My advisors grudgingly consented to a small vacation in the woods. Even they had to admit the fresh air might do me some good. I resolved to slip away from the guards they sent as soon as I could.

On the day of our arrival, I went up to the trailhead where the two of us had agreed to meet. I kept glancing down at the small sketch of himself he had given me, and I wondered if he was looking at the one I had given him. Of course, he’d seen me before, and so scarcely needed it to find me.

A few minutes passed, and then suddenly I looked up and there he was, striding down the mountain trail with an enormous grin on his face. It was astonishing how well the portrait had captured his image. Everything was there, from the broad, crooked smile to the sharp nose to the warm, welcoming eyes and the mane of hair, brushed back into a ponytail. The only surprise were the colors: the pale but healthy face, and the bright, bright red of his hair. He had dressed for the mountain clime, with sturdy, dark trousers and a sharp green jacket. Once we had welcomed each other—my heart was pounding, I recall—we took hand in hand and went together into the central square.

Over sandwiches and coffee each of us learned about the person who had, for so long, been a series of words scrawled on a page. We talked for hours and hours, laughing, sharing secrets. He told me all the little details he knew about the center and its organizers. I reminisced how I’d come here once, as a small child, long before the wars, and gone off the trail to look for bugs.

As Bowser took off his coat, I saw that he wore five black bands, two on each arm and one around his neck. When I asked him about this, he blushed, and told me that they were his tribe’s equivalent of the crown, marking his power and his duty as a ruler. They could be removed, but he was expected to wear them whenever he was in public, in the manner of his ancestors. I thought of my meticulously-composed costume.

Over the next few days, we talked and talked: over meals, while hiking down mountain trails (Bowser was amusingly clumsy, always reaching out to some boulder to keep from stumbling), while swimming in the pool, while admiring the retreat center’s beautiful stone buildings. In short, we had the time together that we’d always wanted. More than that, I won’t say. Some joys are best kept between those who share them, lest they lose their beauty and magic.

In the months that followed, the two of us found ways to meet again and again. Each of us could pull strings at a few establishments like the retreat center, so it was easy enough to find a place and a pretext to get together. We lived for these reunions. For those days when we could get away from the noise and the chaos of government. Time was our greatest obstacle, unfortunately. We each had a country to run, and a never-ending list of problems that needed solving.  And it was hard to explain to our advisors just why we kept darting off to random hotels and cabins and spas every time we got the chance.

I didn’t know about Bowser, but I found it hard to approach the subject with my old tutors. I was afraid of what they’d say, I guess. With good reason. I knew they’d tell me I was being impulsive, childish, even, getting tangled up in a relationship with a widower I had scarcely met. But I didn’t care. I knew what I was doing. They would try to tell me that I didn’t know anything about this king. They’d be wrong. How could I not know him, given the intimacy and the depth of our conversations? How could I explain to them how connected we had become in just a short time? How could they ever understand?

So I left my advisors out of the picture for a long time. But as Bowser and I grew closer and closer, it became clear that this was no idle fling. There was commitment between us, and an intimate connection, and—did I dare say it—a sense of destiny? We began talking about finding a way to live together, so that we wouldn’t have to wait so long to see each other. Maybe we could unite the two kingdoms. Usher in a golden age for both. Maybe we could make the bond between us last until death did us part.

It was then that I realized I’d have to come clean about this with my advisors. Bowser promised to talk to his own. They weren’t stupid, after all. They’d seen the letters flying back and forth between the kingdoms. They’d probably guessed we were after more than relaxation when we went on all those retreats. If I was honest about what was going on, and listened to their concerns, I might be able to persuade them that I’d figured it all out, might even get them to consent to a marriage.

I found Toadsworth in a corner of the library, poring over a tome on fungal chemistry. I started to say something to him, but he motioned me over to an empty table, and we sat down. “What seems to be the matter, your Majesty?” he asked kindly.

I told him everything—how lonely I’d felt, how Bowser had changed all that, how we’d been meeting whenever we had the chance, how sorry I was that we’d been keeping secrets from our trusted advisors. I even confessed to my dream of marrying this amazing man and uniting the two kingdoms, hoping, perhaps, that this last admission would win my advisor to my side through honesty. But Toadsworth’s face was grave.

He listened with a pained expression and, when I was finished, began to shake his head. “We suspected as much. I’m very sorry to say this, your Grace, but it was unwise of you to get yourself mixed up in this. It would be best if you were to forget the matter entirely.”

I gaped at him. “What do you mean? Are you telling me…are you telling me to stop seeing him?”

He nodded slowly. “It would be a great mistake to continue your dalliance with this gentleman, yes. Your other advisors and I are in agreement on this matter. We have no interest in seeing you become a tool of the Koopa kingdom, and, I must be clear, will oppose any marriage that would tie you to their aims.”

I swallowed. He hadn’t in the least been convinced by anything I’d said. “But…why? Bowser is a good man, I tell you! Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“Of course we trust your judgment,” he said. “But we also know that you are ignorant of the wider political situation. Do you recall how your father came to power?”

“Mostly,” I said, trying to think.

“His immediate predecessor was killed in battle. We were at war, then, with the Koopa. It took all your father’s cunning to straighten that matter out.”

I flushed. I did remember that, vaguely. “But we’re at peace, now. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

He snorted. “You flaunt your ignorance like a child. The enmity between the Mushroom and Koopa nations stretches back into antiquity. It began with tribal raids on our agriculture and the capture of our people as slaves. It continued under the harsh regimes of the last century, and it reaches right up into the conflicts of the modern day.”

He looked pale. “Suppose you did marry this…this Bowser. How could I possibly tell our people that their ruler had given herself to our oldest enemies? That she slept in the bed of a Koopa and doted on his affections? That she intended to merge our two kingdoms and allow our enslavers to overrun us, to let their slimy feet march through our streets as if they belonged there? Do not ask this of me.”

He seemed to relax. “Besides, we have already put a great deal of thought into your marriageability. Despite our earlier failure, I believe we have now found a good match for you: Arthur Peasley of the Beanish kingdom.”

I shuddered to think of those stringy green faces. Then I remembered something. “Hold on a moment—isn’t he twelve years old?”

Toadsworth flushed. “You must give him a chance to develop. In time, I’m sure he will make a fine regent for the Mushroom King alongside yourself.”

I shook my head. “Forget it. I’m not marrying a child, and I’m not marrying a Bean.”

“You may not have a choice,” he said, eyes flashing. “You seem to think you can marry out of love.”

“My parents did,” I insisted.

“No,” he said. “Your parents were lucky. The marriage that was arranged for them happened to be a good one. In time, they found it coincided with their own desires. Not everyone can be so lucky. Especially now. You know this, Peach.”

I sat there in sullen silence for a moment. “I know what you’re trying to say,” I said finally. “You’re trying to tell me that I don’t know anything about this man. That I shouldn’t go chasing after a widower with children. That he’s going to take my innocence and use up my soul. Well, let me tell you—”

He interrupted me. “Good God, Peach, you can anticipate my arguments and you still refuse to admit how foolish all of this is? You are indeed risking everything on a nation and a man you don’t fully understand. Yes, the Koopa are duplicitous creatures. This man will deceive you, and he will leave you broken and empty. And it pains me to think of what will happen when you realize this. But you’re missing the point, as usual.”

He rose up from his chair, and it was astonishing how much fury could be contained in such a small figure. “Ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether you can trust this king or not. You have no choice in this matter. I cannot allow you to jeopardize this kingdom. You will marry Peasley, or a similar candidate, and forget about this foolishness.”

“Jeopardize?” I protested. “What, because I want to marry the man I love?”

“Do you think you are some silly blushing schoolgirl from a storybook?” he snarled. “You are not. You are her Majesty Peach Toadstool, the regent and ruler of the Mushroom people. _You do not get a say in this matter._ You must make your choices for the good of the kingdom, not on your whim. You must hold fast to the duty your ancestors put upon you: to be something more than an individual, to be the spirit of a nation. The people of this kingdom rely on you to uphold their traditions, to represent their rich history, and above all, to keep them safe. They will not accept a ruler who risks their lives and makes deals with their enemies, and _I will not have you be their betrayer!”_

I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, not meeting his gaze.

Finally he exhaled. “I don’t mean to snap. But I tell you, if you talk to any of the others about this, they will tell you the same thing.”

“You’ve all decided, then,” I said.

“Yes.”

I got up from the table. He gave me a kind smile. “I know you’ll need some time to think all of this over,” he said.

“A lot of time,” I said, and left.

That night I couldn’t sleep, sick with worry. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, hating everything about the day. Hating myself, for how stupid I had been to reveal my desires to the advisors. Hating them, for their slavish devotion to tradition and the idiocies of the law. Hating the whole concept of duty that kept me pinned here, like an insect behind glass, unable to move where I wanted, unable to do a damned thing without thousands of eyes upon me. Hating these walls, this castle. Get me away from all of these cobwebs and chains. Let me just be done with all of it. Let me just be free.

I dashed a letter off to Bowser immediately, and snatched up his reply as soon as it arrived. He’d had a long, heated discussion with his advisors as well, but in the end he’d been able to make them see reason. He was sorry to hear mine hadn’t been so accommodating, but he argued that need not stand in our way. Together, we began to hatch a plan.

We wasted no time. Within weeks I was gone from that place. A secret caravan pulled up in the dead of night— I only had to slip past a few idle guards to ride off into freedom. Let the retainers sort out their messy traditions; let them sort out who would take up my powers. I was done. I was leaving to seek my destiny, never to return.

Or so I thought. I had no idea it would be the first of a long, long, series of hasty departures.

We were married in a quiet ceremony in a small white chapel in the heart of Koopa country. I wore a white gown the local tailors had put together at the last moment, and Bowser looked resplendent in a dark suit and tie. We kept the guest list as small as we could, but that still meant inviting a whole host of Koopa magistrates and dukes and obscure family members and respected dignitaries. On the day of the ceremony, I couldn’t help but keep glancing down the rows at all the stuffy old turtles in their regalia and the menagerie of other bizarre creatures.

In the front row, I could see a number of older children, looking deeply uncomfortable in their suits and dresses. Each one was seated with a Koopa guardian, who kept looking around jealously at the other children. I saw Bowser wince as he passed by, and I wished, not for the first time, that politics hadn’t torn his family apart. But as we kissed on the altar, both of us knew we had found a new beginning.

After a honeymoon tour of the provinces, Bowser and I settled down in the heart of the Koopa capital, in the old castle that had been built by his ancestors. It was a wild, hoary old palace of dark stone, with ugly, spiky gargoyles leering from every corner, even in the gardens.

Bowser caught my uneasy gaze. “They are rather nasty, aren’t they? Still, I’m obligated to keep them around. People expect a certain traditional décor.” I nodded.

Once we got inside, the furnishings noticeably improved. It was obvious that Bowser had done his best to brighten up the place, and I felt a bit more at home. I did notice something strange, though, after a while. There were empty picture frames hanging everywhere. Even in the long hall that seemed to be a gallery of ancestors like the one I had known growing up, only a few of the frames contained any faces.

“You caught us at a bit of an odd time,” Bowser explained. “Over the years, the damp has gotten to most of the portraits. We’ve just started a major restoration project, which, hopefully, will not take too much longer.” He looked a bit nervous.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

He grinned. “I can’t think of anyone who has more right to.” I laughed, and together we kissed in the hall of our peculiar home.

We were very happy. We kissed in the bright morning sun, we played by the light of the moon. We debated literature and philosophy by the castle’s warm hearth. We danced through Bowser’s great library, climbing up and down its many ladders, exploring what lay between the pages of those massive iron-bound books. We watched sunrises and sunsets and meteor showers from the balconies. We laughed and loved and enjoyed living together, at last united across the miles that had kept us apart.

It wasn’t to last, of course.

I kept out of politics, letting Bowser handle the affairs of the nation he knew so well. And yet the Koopa people seemed to welcome me all the same. Some of the dukes seemed obligated to turn up their beaks at me, but most of the turtles I met at the palace and in the streets showed me the same generosity and respect they held for their king. I never felt like a queen, but I did feel like part of the family.

Within a year’s time Bowser and I discovered that I was with child. At first he was as excited as I was to start a family. But soon he grew worried. He spent long hours arguing with the Koopa dukes in hushed meetings, and even longer in the library, doing research. “On what?” I asked. “Heredity,” he told me, and said no more.

Finally, he emerged one day from the council room looking wild and triumphant. “I’ve done it,” he said.

“Done what?”

He looked at me with shining eyes. “I’ve convinced the dukes to keep away from our child. This baby will be ours, Peach. We won’t have to give our son or daughter up to their designs.”

I hugged him fiercely. “How did you manage to persuade them?”

“Well, I made it clear to them that they’d already had their share of the heirs.” He blinked. “Also, I may have threatened to throw one or two of them into the lava pit.” I had to laugh.

And before we knew it, our son was born. I won’t go into the sweat and the toil on my part—I only halfway remember it, anyway. Suffice it to say, I was glad when it was all over, and the fruit of our efforts was before us: a beautiful baby boy. He had something of his father’s look about him, particularly in the eyes and nose, and so we named him Bowser as well. I wondered if we’d end up calling him Junior, or if we’d call him by his middle name, Shiro, after my father.

Time would tell.

And so we were happy together, dreaming of the future and raising our newborn son. I let memories of home slip away, and relished this new world of family, and learning, and love.

And then it all came crashing down.

One afternoon, as Bowser was puttering about with chemicals and spells in his laboratory, I went into the bedroom to check on the baby. Everything seemed to be all right until the small form lying in the crib rolled over and showed me its face.

It wasn’t our child. It was a monster. Gone were the sweet curls and the smooth pink cheeks I knew so well. Instead I saw a wretched, misshapen thing with the green scales of a lizard and the feral yellow eyes of a wild animal. Its face was long and doglike, and its body seemed to be covered with a turtle’s shell. Horns sprouted from its head. And as it opened its mouth, I saw rows and rows of teeth, and it made a strangled, rasping sound no human child could ever make.

I screamed. I don’t think I could have done anything else but scream. I couldn’t even begin to grasp what was going on. Bowser must have heard me, because in a moment he came through the door. It looked for a moment as if he was going to ask what was going on. Then his eyes followed mine to the crib. “Oh, _shit,”_ he said.

“Bowser?” I stammered. “What—what is going on?”

“It’s all right,” he blurted out, “I can fix this.” He darted over to the crib and sprinkled something over it, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath. The creature’s form stretched and shifted, and in a moment I saw our child lying there once more.

I was still shaking. “Bowser, I—I don’t understand. What happened? Did someone try to hurt our son? Did someone do that to him?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Peach, I—” He looked down at the perfectly normal baby, now fast asleep. “I did _this_ to him.”

I just stared at him, still not understanding.

He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry, Peach. I lied to you. If not directly, then through omission. The reason our child turned into that creature is because he _is_ that creature. And he is that creature because he’s my son.”

I tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes kept darting about. I was only barely grasping what he was saying.

He went on. “I let you think that my family was like your own. That the Koopa kings were soft, pink mammals like the Mushroom rulers. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? If the Mushroom King scarcely resembles his subjects, why not the Koopa family? But the truth is, we’re not like your family. We’re reptiles, much like the Koopas you see in the street. Only bigger, stronger, and more dangerous. The royal blood has always carried these enhanced traits—that’s why the dukes fight over it so fiercely. But I didn’t want to involve you in their schemes.”

“But—” I said, looking helplessly at his all-too-normal frame.

It was almost impossible to hear him. “The form I wear is not my own,” he whispered. “I told you, Peach, I’m a sorcerer. I’ve studied magic since childhood. It was no great trick for me to change my body into one…one I thought you’d find more tolerable.”

“But I’ve seen your family portraits,” I began. “They’re all—” And then I stopped, suddenly realizing the horrible truth.

He nodded. “They never needed to be restored. I just exchanged them, gradually, for new, less alarming images.” He swallowed hard. “I never meant to hurt you, Peach. Believe me. It just seemed easier to avoid all of this.”

“But Bowser,” I managed, “what about our son? You’re saying—you’re saying that he’s a creature like you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “A reptile in the finest Koopa tradition.”

I looked at the innocent baby, now sleeping in the crib. “But he was never like that—that _thing_ before—I know the boy I gave birth to!”

He shook his head. “Blood will out, as tradition has it. He was brought forth from my altered body, but the magic could not suppress the Koopa ancestry for long after his birth. I’ve been keeping him in disguise as well, using charms and herbs whenever he started to change. But…as you can see, I missed a day. And now—now it’s all come undone.”

“You lied to me,” I said, voice wavering.

“But not to hurt you,” he said hastily. “Only to protect you. Only to shield you from all of this mess. Only so you didn’t have to see what you didn’t need to see.” A manic look had come into his eyes.

I couldn’t answer him. His words seemed to be coming from somewhere very far away. The stone walls around me seemed to be losing their solidity, twisting and shivering. The whole world was rushing away from me. I realized that I was shaking. Everything I had known and trusted was built on a lie.

“You should have trusted me,” I tried to say, but Bowser was no longer paying attention to what I was saying. He was babbling, mumbling, stringing words together as if trying to keep them from escaping.

“Maybe it’s better this way,” he said, scarcely pausing for breath, “maybe it’s better now that you know the truth. Now I can show you who I truly am and you’ll understand, yes, I’ll show you now and I won’t have to go on hiding anymore, yes, this is what we should have done in the first place, I’ve been a fool, just give me a moment to reverse the spell—”

“Wait,” I tried to say, “I don’t—” But I couldn’t stop him in time. He took a crystal from his pocket, and began turning it over in his hands, muttering strange words. And then he began to change.

His hands stretched out into claws, and turned a sickly yellow color. Talons burst from his shoes. His spine stretched as his body grew larger and larger, looming over me. Bone-white spines tore through the back of his shirt, and in a moment, a green shell was apparent on his back. His limbs rippled with twisted muscle, and a spiky tail burst from his trousers. His naked skin, now free from the clothes that had been reduced to tatters, was replaced by a reptile’s leathery scales, all that same jaundiced yellow color, save for the belly, which remained a gross parody of the natural flesh.

His face was worst of all. Green scales appeared around those bright eyes, which gave way to the bloodshot, slitted eyes of a feral animal. His long red hair turned into a bristling mane, and white horns sprouted from the sides of his head. His mouth and nose stretched outward, and in a moment, his handsome smile gave way to a dog’s fat, ravenous jaws. A mouth filled with rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth, long as daggers opened before my face. Within moments, there was no trace of the man I had married. An enormous monster towered over me, its foul breath choking my lungs, its shadow casting me into darkness.

“PEACH,” it rasped, saliva dripping from its jaws. “TELL ME WHAT YOU—”

I screamed.

And I ran.

I ran out of the room, nearly tripping over my dress, as a voice roared somewhere behind me: “—WAIT! COME BACK—PEACH!”

I ran through the hallway, kicking off my shoes onto the ornamental carpet as I stumbled on the stairway—

I ran through the east wing of the palace, all too sure that I would hear lumbering footsteps and the roar of flames—

I ran through the grand foyer, down past the endless steps and the glittering chandeliers—

I ran past a surprised guard and dashed out the half-open oaken door—

I ran out of the palace, across the great drawbridge, past the boiling lake and onto the sticky land—

I ran across the moor, past the sneering gargoyles, which I now clearly saw were not decorations, but statues of the royal family themselves—

I ran out through the outer walls, and into the city, and to the outskirts of town, beyond the outskirts of town, and into the wilderness of Koopa country—

I ran, ran as far as I could get from that palace and that life, out of one story and into another.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. 

A monster, you say? Is that what they’re calling me these days?

Very well, why not? Let it be known that I am a monster, born and raised true. The most hideous, diabolical monster you could ever hope to meet. With nasty breath and insidious purposes. Draw a few extra spikes and fangs on me for good measure. I was never one to stand in the way of such a compelling portrait. Or, for that matter, a good tale.

In fact, there’s something to be said for embracing one’s mythological role, don’t you think? Individual men and women may come and go, but archetypes—ah, archetypes live on forever. Even eternal infamy is still a kind of immortality.

And really, it’s the infamy that draws us more than the virtue, when all’s said and done. The perfection of heroes is boring—but wretchedness is a sight to see. All virtuous men are essentially the same—immobile statues carved from immaculate stuff. But each villain provides a different freak show for us to gawk at. We wonder: how did this one grow tusks? Why is this one eyeless, limbless, lizardlike? Just how did this particular angel fall from grace?

Every story demands at least one monster to slay and one maiden to protect. Just what would St. George have been, for instance, without his dragon? How could the great storm god Susanoo have helped establish a mighty empire without slaying the eight-headed serpent called Orochi, and pulling the last of eight maiden daughters from its carcass? To say nothing of city-founding Theseus without his Minotaur, or Perseus without Cetus, serpent of the deep.

One does not inquire if the Minotaur knew what it meant to taste Theseus’s blade, if Orochi or Cetus were simply desperate to eat. Put such things from your mind. All that matters about a monster is that you can look at it and recoil, relieved to know once more that you are better than this hideous, wretched beast. I myself would be happy to stoke your ego, to give you something reassuring to despise. We all must do our part.

Sadly, all this insight is wasted on him. Oh, he believes in the tales of sword and virtue. Lives by them, even. It’s quaint. But he’s incapable of a civilized conversation about the subject. He prefers pugilism to discourse, it seems. Rather a shame.  A comment, directed at the world: if you insist on pairing me with a nemesis, why not someone I could torment on a psychological level?  One whose feeble philosophies I could mock from my balcony (preferably with a glass of wine clenched in one claw) as he stubbornly proclaimed the righteousness of his cause. One with whom I could expect a showdown not merely physical but intellectual. Not some half-wit whose only interest is violence.

Sigh. It would have been so much more _interesting_.

Oh, but I lie. I conceal. I pretend that I chose this life, that I planned the endless dance out in grand fashion long before it began. Far easier for me to let you think that than admit what I’m really doing here: making the best of a bad situation, in my own hazy, grandiloquent way. Accepting my role makes living with it easier—above all, more fun. But what I wouldn’t give to have avoided all of this insanity.

I do readily admit, however, that I am a monster. Of that there can be no doubt. I don’t mean merely that I am a brute endowed with hideous spikes and claws and terrible gnashing teeth (though I possess such things aplenty). Any common gargoyle can lay claim to those. I am speaking, rather, of the mind of a monster. You have no doubt seen it before. It’s that gleam that lurks behind the collector’s smile. It’s that yearning to have, and to hold, and to keep, that makes the dragon guard his hoard of gold. It’s what makes the tyrant Holdfast, with manic smile, try to force together the pieces of his crumbling kingdom. It’s what brings a chained maiden to a dark cave, where a serpent lies waiting.

I’m luckier, though, than they were. The central truth about all monsters is that they want what they cannot keep. They are destined to lose their prize, and to be slain. The dragon bleeds, his gold taken. The tyrant is stripped of his crown. The maiden walks free, past the headless serpent on the floor. We are destined to lose. And yet, I defy the rule. I have not lost. I remain. And though at times I wonder where her heart lies, the maiden who dwelt in my cave has not abandoned me. She did not stay with the monster-slaying knight. She returned to me.

She lies beside me now, her golden hair a tangled haze upon the pillow. She yawns and stretches out her thin arms, then pulls them back in and curls up again, catlike. I put my arms around her and we move closer together, with soft satisfaction. Holding her in my arms, all I can think of is how lucky I am. To have her here with me is no small victory.

But it’s transient, of course, like all things found in life. And try as I might, I can’t seem to stop my mind from going to those places. I want this moment to last. Is it better, I wonder, to ignore its transience? Or to address it directly, and by so doing, know precisely how to use the time that remains?

“How long do you think we have?” I finally ask.

She rolls over and looks up with a slight frown. “Depends, as usual, on how effective our misdirection was. He’s not stupid. He’ll realize eventually that we went back to this castle after all. We can only hope to delay him, that’s all. Add in the usual time he takes to get a team together and the length of the journey…and I’d say he’ll be here in about the usual time. Three days or so?”

“Three days.”

“Yes. Sound about right?”

“It does,” I say. Three days. Such a miniscule, infinitesimal amount of time. But it’s all we have to work with.

“And when we get word of him you can prepare for your little charade,” she says quietly. “Have your duel, leave the key to my room on the mantle, all that. I’m  in no mood to work out the logistics just now.”

“That’s fine,” I say, trying to relax and enjoy the moment. But something compels me to press further. “He’s persistent, your Mario.”

She sighs. “Oh, Bow, I don’t know if he’s _my_ anything at all. But yes, he is rather stubborn.”

We’re quiet a moment, and then something in me insists on taking it one step further. “What I still don’t understand, even after all this time, is…why him, of all people?”

“Oh, don’t do this to me now, Bowser,” she groans. “It isn’t fair.” She stares up at the ceiling for a while. “I don’t know. It wasn’t anything I meant to do. I didn’t pick him out of a box of crackers. Maybe he just happened to be standing in the right place when the kingdom needed someone like him. Maybe he just looked like something I needed at the time. A convenient answer to a problem. That’s all. It wasn’t personal.”

“Look,” I say, gently. “I didn’t mean to pry—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Of course you did, you always mean to pry. But I’ll let you get away with it.” She purses her lips and looks up at the ceiling again. Another long pause goes by.

“He’s not a bad person, you know,” she says softly. “I know you’d like to think that, but it’s not true. He really does care about the kingdom. You should see some of the things he does to help in his spare time. Rebuilding houses, starting charities for the poor and infirm, repairing the old aqueducts without a cent of compensation—”

“Who’s to say those aren’t the actions of a man desperate to ingratiate himself with a nation he thinks can offer him everything?” I insist.

“Who’s to say it can’t be both?” she retorts. “You don’t think compassion and self-interest can coincide? Besides, you  haven’t seen the way he lights up when he finds a way he can contribute to the kingdom. He believes in being helpful, Bow. That’s not a sin.”

I don’t answer. I want to ask her what she’s doing here, then, with me, instead, but I can’t bring myself to say it. “He is a boor, though,” I say. “I can’t see him as a blessing to you. You’ve told me that much yourself.”

“Oh, he’s a boor,” she says. “I’ll readily admit that. But it’s possible to dislike him on one level and admire him on another.”

She catches my eye. “Look, I’ll stop talking about him. I know you’d rather I didn’t. I just wanted to point out that there’s so much more to him you don’t necessarily see when you’re trying to wrestle him into lava.”

“What more is there?” I ask. “More greedy insinuations about your future? Further arbitrary attempts to control your life?”

She shakes her head. “I’m talking about things like his expertise with wine, or his love of jazz—you should hear him go on about it; he knows hundreds and hundreds of musicians and can tell you in detail about all of their greatest works—”

“That imbecile?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s not an imbecile,” she says quietly. “I told you, he’s not stupid. He’s uneducated. There’s a difference.”

I don’t answer. After a long time, she stretches again, and says, “He asked me once if I wanted to go through the portal with him, you know. Come to his world and live with him there.”

“And what did you say?”

“No,” she replies. “Of course not. There’s too much here to think of. No, I was never in the least bit tempted. Although I do find myself curious about the world of Brooklyn he describes. Can you imagine an entire world where everyone looks like he and I do?”

“Vividly.”

“I was just thinking, you know, how nice it might be just to be anonymous,” she says dreamily. “To go somewhere where your size and shape doesn’t give you away as a ruler and just blend into the crowd. It might be worth trying someday.”

“Always a chance you might get stuck on the other side,” I point out.

“That’s true,” she says. “Better not risk it. I belong here, after all.”

“I wonder,” I say. “I was looking at some of the oldest records in the archives, and I found some reference to the notion that the Mushroom King was not always as he is now. That at one point he resembled the Toads in fungal nature. Then there was a war—details are scant—and after the war, he was a two-legged mammal as your family are now.”

“I’ve heard that notion before,” she says. “My retainers always told me it was blasphemy. So, what, you’re saying that my ancestors invaded the Mushroom Kingdom and took over for the Mushroom King? That they might have come through some portal like Mario’s?”

“It’s worth considering, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she says, frowning. “But why would this portal open at such random way? Why then? Why now? I don’t understand the logic of it.”

“I don’t know that, either,” I admit. “Some sort of entity with a bias towards spectacle or heroism?”

She shrugs. “It’s an interesting possibility, but I don’t intend to dwell on it. Either way, this is the home I know. I’d rather not leave it.”

“You’re right,” I say, not quite able to express my relief. “Better to stay.”

“And besides,” she says, sliding closer to me. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than here.”

Not for the first time, I marvel at the good fortune of a monster like myself.  

But I was speaking of the nature of my monstrosity, wasn’t I? Shall tell you how I first realized that I was a monster?

It wasn’t the moment I was born into a half-functioning family in a nation torn apart by petty dynastic struggles. I had no such notion then—I was more aware of my caretakers and the fresh meat they brought than my own existence. Nor was it the moment I first looked in the mirror and saw my emerald and golden scales and my curving teeth and the first buds of my horns.

As a child, I saw nothing monstrous about my reptilian body. I only knew that my distant brothers and I were unique, that our royal blood made us different from the Koopa who raised us and made up the society we were to rule. That knowledge was exhilarating—what child does not want to be somehow special?—but also a little frightening to hold, like a lit flame.

And if I knew there were creatures out there who did not look like either species, scaleless pink mammals who might fear our claws and our teeth and our fire, I paid very little attention to them then. I did not know that I would find myself admiring the way those pale, slender limbs could move, the way a long golden mane could flow like water down past those shoulders, and above all the light that could appear in those alien blue eyes when I spoke of learning, and royal rule, and love.

But as a child I knew only that I was uncomfortable in this stifling world of tutors and politics, that I craved something Kamek, the duke and priest who raised me, could not provide. I found it in books. They made sense of the world. They showed me the grand sweep of history, going back to my ancestors, and how I fit into it. They showed me how the rituals of the priesthood emerged with every stone laid of the castle walls, and how important it was to maintain such traditions. They taught me magic of my own, so that I could get things for myself, make things for myself, and have some leverage over my odious tutors.

To most of them, we were little more than pawns in a great game. I don’t know whether I could call it a civil war. It might be more fitting to say that the Koopa nation was enjoying its natural state: intrigue and assassination, all centering around the royal lineage and the prestige its heirs could provide. For the dukes, it was a game with little to risk and everything to gain. Their lives were not on the line as ours were. Poison a king here, slit the hide of a prince there. And so on. The king I never knew fathered five of us. By the time I was coming of age, I was the only one left. I was lucky, I suppose. Kamek was cleverer than the rest.

And so that murderous world hailed me as a great boy king, who would lead the nation into a great new era, and I won’t insult you  by blathering on with the rest. I can’t pretend that their platitudes meant very much to me. But in the end I decided to make the most of the power I had been given. In time, perhaps, I could make the Koopa kingdom a better place to live. A world in which my heirs would not have to go through what I had. At the very least, I could try.

Of course, blood continued to be everything, and I well remember the day that Archaeon of Eastmarsh showed up on our doorstep, with his daughter in a carriage behind him. His intent: to propose a marriage. The kingdom needed the resources and manpower of Eastmarsh to maintain its holdings, he said, and what better way to acknowledge that than to bind one of his family to the royal line? He was right, much as I despised him, and I had very little say in the matter, anyway. Mere months after I took the crown, his daughter Luciotta and I were married, with one injunction hanging over everything: produce heirs to the throne.

If I had studied magic before, it was nothing compared to my researches now. Once I had fathered offspring, I knew I would be expendable. Some Koopa duke or another would conspire to kill me and put one of my sons on the throne. I was determined to protect myself. I studied defensive wards, antidotes to poisons, spells to reveal things hidden. With Kamek’s help—his family, at least, I could trust—I wove a network of protective magic into the very walls of the castle, and became acclaimed as a great sorcerer.

In due time, a clutch of seven eggs was laid, and the dukes had the heirs they sought. My sons and daughters were snatched from me before they were even able to speak. I had seen it coming, but all the same it was devastating to watch my children ride away, one by one. But this was nothing compared to the effect their absence had on Luciotta.

Luciotta and I had never loved each other. We tried, God knows, but there was never anything between us but a sense of resignation. Of duty. I liked and admired her. Thought her beautiful, even. And I think she had a certain respect for me. But she despised everything I represented. She never wanted to leave the house where she had grown up, laughing and playing with her Koopa friends. She missed the bright-eyed boys she had known, missed dancing and games and the bright marketplaces of Eastmarsh. But the greatest injustice of all was the loss of her body.

Luciotta had not grown up as I had, knowing claws and teeth and inner fire. She had been hatched a Koopa, a small turtle like the rest of the populace. But in order to ensure the strongest royal blood was passed on, it was decreed that she must take on royal form, as generations of queens had done before her. So she grew horns and spikes like mine. She was beautiful even then, but she could not see it. When she looked in the mirror, she no longer recognized herself.

I tried to console her, but it was the last door closing on the life she had known. She told me she felt like a demon, some bloated alien creature. She could no longer walk the streets without being recognized as my consort. She could no longer mingle with the people she had known—she could scarcely even fit in their houses—and she could no longer swim in the lakes and streams she had loved all her life. She could never go back. For some that might not have been the end, but she found nothing she loved in the dark, grimy castle, nothing to propel her forward.

Sometimes, late at night, after our duty was done, I would use my knowledge of magic to help her change back into her old form, and she would slip out the window, grateful for a night in which she could know herself again, for however short a time. But in the morning, I would always find her again by the side of the bed, weeping, and I would have to return her to the body she despised.

She brightened when her eggs began to hatch, and for a time, I thought she might find a sense of purpose in the rearing of our children. But all too quickly they were gone, and she sank into a deeper depression than before. She stopped eating, and took to staring out over the river for what seemed like days at a time. She grew pale and refused to get out of bed. And by the end of our third year, she, too, was gone.

Even then I did not think myself a monster. But I knew that I had failed. I felt sure that there  had been something I could have done to save her. Some insight I could have shared, perhaps as small as a single word, that would have lifted the darkness for good. But in all my searching, I had found nothing. I prayed that her soul was happy, and I prayed that she might forgive me for my inadequacy.

The dukes would want me to remarry, I knew. I had no idea what I would do, but a single conviction filled me:  _I could not let what had happened to Luciotta happen again._

I stalled their requests for years. They had found their heirs, I told them. Give the king time to find a new queen. In the meantime I let them have everything they wanted. I let them raise my children in whatever fashion they wanted, as I searched for a better way to live.

And then, with the quiet force of a letter landing on my desk, an incredible young woman entered my life.

She was—God, I can’t even begin to describe her. She was brilliant, for one thing: a careful and discerning reader who could cut to the bone with an insight. I remember seeing the seal on that letter and thinking of the shy, gawky youth I had seen, veiled and dressed in black, on the day of her mother’s funeral. How I wished, then, I could offer her some solace. I remember opening that letter and finding myself charmed and delighted by the vivacious, thoughtful reader I found there. Did I know, then, that she would become such a powerful presence in my life? I can’t say for certain. But I remember that flush of excitement as I wrote to her, that thrill when I first shared my thoughts on Alpto and Ripedeu with another.

And as our letters went on, I realized that she was not only brilliant, but kind, and generous, and capable of reaching something in me which I had never known before. And I learned that she churned with locked-away emotion, loneliness and pain, and I found I was able to do something to comfort her after all. And in her, I, too, was given the chance to unburden my soul. And by then it was too late to avert our course: the tale was destined to unfold.

And when she asked if we could meet, I knew I couldn’t do anything less than give her what she wanted. I read her letters over and over again, pondering what a meeting between us might be like—her with her small, sweet frame, I with my claws and bulk. And then I came to the passage in which she described the attack on her parents, how the monster had loomed over her, had flashed its horrible teeth and stuck with his terrible claws. And I realized that I could not show up as I was, for I was bound to frighten her. Yet neither could I refuse. A compromise, then—I would take the body of one of her kind at first, and gradually explain the situation as time went on. And slowly, that barrier between us would fade away.

But the opportunity never arose. We met, and I marveled at her beauty, and we talked for hours, and I never found the right way to say what I had been planning to say about my newly-formed limbs. Conversation, wine, and the sheer intoxication of each other’s presence rendered everything else irrelevant. We made love as I had never experienced it before, and from that moment on, we were lost to our fate. Even as we parted, I could not bring myself to tell her. Instead, I set off for home, giddy with an indescribable bliss. When I arrived, I changed back into myself, and sat down to think. Everything was different now.

And as our meetings continued, as we began to talk of marriage, I realized that I would have to come up with a plan. Peach’s advisors had rejected my offer of union, as I knew they would. I would have to bring her here, and that entailed certain…complications. I thought back to the way Luciotta had sacrificed her body to the royal blood, and I shuddered. Never again. Never. Not for Peach, who still believed in a king without horns and claws. I would not make her give up her face to the kingdom.

A feverish dream seized me: to destroy the murderous world I had been born into, and to take Peach into a place where there were no ogres, no demons, no assassins. To set aside my shell forever and live with her as one of her kind. To hell with tradition. To hell with the bloodline. I had given it enough of my soul already. I was done bowing down. It was time to rule.

My plan horrified the dukes, but in the end, I forced them to see things my way. With a little help from loyal families like Kamek’s, I was able to have those who refused killed or imprisoned. To their successors, I explained the basic idea: the king of the Koopas would no longer need to display his royal frame before the populace. Instead, he would keep his blood secret and thereby channel blood power to his heirs. It was an absurd notion, and the dukes knew it, but it would be enough to convince the masses. They would accept their reshaped king, and their new queen.

And so when Peach arrived, I was able to pretend that nothing was wrong, that the Koopa family had always lived this way—never mind the high ceilings and the fireproof carpet. And she believed me. And I put away the old portraits, and I forgot, for a time, that I was born into a family of murderers, with scales and a foot-long tail. And we were happier than I can put words to. And we had a home, together, in that old castle in the marsh.

And when our child was to be born, the dukes demanded he be handed over to one of them. And they sneered at my refusal. But I did something I’d never done before: I made them fear me. I roared and snarled and explained to them just what kind of transformations they might undergo if they refused me this boon. What cruel punishments I might devise. I made them afraid to sleep in their own beds should they refuse me my request. And suddenly they recalled everything I had done for their advancement, and backed down.

And so it was all made perfect: the three of us, living together in bliss, freed from the dictates of any past, looking forward to a rosy future.

Ah, but you knew it wasn’t that kind of story.

No. The lie fell apart. I should have known I would slip up sooner or later. My grand masquerade was flimsy at best: within the year, Peach caught a glimpse of her real son. Not the doughy pink child she had given birth to, but the reptile whose face was so like my own. To her, of course, he seemed no less than a demon. And as I heard her scream, I realized just what I had done.

Even then, I held out a last, desperate hope that the situation could be salvaged. At least the truth was out now. If I could explain what I had meant to do, why I had done it, then she would surely come to understand. In time, she might even accept my other form, forgiving my scales and my trespasses.

No. Instead, one look at me sent her running out the door.

I learned, a few weeks later, that on the outskirts of town , she found certain Mushroom agents who had been stationed in the city by her regents in the hope that she would return to their kingdom. In the past, she had rejected every offer of return. Now she flung herself into their arms. And then I heard she had returned to the regency she had known. I sent envoys of my own, trying to make contact. None were allowed to cross the steps of her castle. Letters I sent received no reply. She had cut off all contact with me.

And even then, I did not see that I was a monster.

Instead I tried to pull myself up from my failure, as I had done so many years before. I was still the ruler of a great kingdom, a land I had shaped into a safer, more prosperous place for all. The nation counted on me to continue my work. The nobles were waiting for my word. My son, my hard-won, beautiful boy, needed a father to take care of him.

So I tried to shake myself out of mourning. But it was not so easy to escape my grief. Peach could not be so easily forgotten. I dwelt on her face, her voice, the memory of her kindness. The simplest tasks seemed meaningless without her. Darkness tinged every act. I felt as if I was slipping into the swamp, with all my works and aspirations alongside me.

I had been so close. So close to a normal life with a happy ending, so close to a love unlike anything I had ever known. I could not help but mourn.

I stopped wearing that small, inoffensive form, and went back to dragging my bulk through the castle. Days, weeks, months, slipped by in a haze. Dutifully, I took my throne, gave my speeches. But my hours were filled with her absence. I could scarcely even glance at my bookshelf without thinking of her. I would lay for hours in my bedchamber, staring at the ceiling.

Finally, it became too much to bear. One day, murky like all the rest, after poring over the national stage with a number of Koopa leaders, a terrible idea entered my head. Relations with the Mushroom kingdom were at an all-time low, they had told me. Tension between Toad and Koopa had not been so great since the wars of antiquity. And meanwhile their nation was outstripping us in trade across the globe.

Lying alone in a chair, slightly intoxicated, it seemed to me that there was only one conclusion to draw from this. And suddenly I knew precisely what to do next.

“Summon the generals,” I told my secretary, first thing the next morning. “We’re going to war with the Mushroom Kingdom.”

I knew the war would tear apart the lives of thousands of Koopas and Toads. I knew it would be a major endeavor and a drain on my financial resources. I didn’t give a damn. All I knew was that this had gone on long enough. I  had to take action. At worst, I would remind her that I existed. At best, I might force some confrontation. I might find a way to talk to her, to make her understand.

I had to find her. I had to see her again—not only so that I might see her face one more time, but so I might apologize. I couldn’t let her think of me as an ugly memory. I had to explain.  I had to make her see that I had never—could never have—meant to hurt her. I had to be forgiven.

In the end, I don’t know whose idea it was to kidnap the woman who had been my wife. It may have been one of the generals who suggested it. But I seized on it immediately, for it made perfect sense. It was the perfect pretext to meet. I would make sure she was unharmed. She would be back home, at last. And we could end the war, and everything else between us for good.

And so, as Toad and Koopa went blade to blade, as Goomba supplied with our weapons made plans for their glorious revolution, a caravan with a drugged woman made its way to my castle.

When she arrived, the soldiers asked me what I wanted to do with her. I told them to leave her with me for a private interrogation. They tied her to a chair and left. And so, in what had once been our living room, I sat in an uncomfortable silence, waiting for my sleeping maiden to wake up.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

The carriage pulled over the hill, and in the misty half-light of the morning, I saw what I’d once imagined I’d never see again: the valley that was the heartland of the kingdom. The city where I was born, dazzling in the middle of the great plain, its many white houses like bits of scattered shell, lamps here and there being doused for the day. The shining castle at the center of it all, with its polished white stone and its red terraces and towers, and the road that swept down from me to meet it.

It was such a comforting, familiar sight that for a moment I couldn’t believe it was really there. It felt like I was waking up from a dream. As the brisk morning air hit me, the demons and shadows of the night seemed to fade away into the mist. I was home.

Toadsworth was waiting for us at the gate. As I took my first, shaky steps from the carriage onto my own soil, he took my hand to help keep me steady, and together we walked through the gardens, into the great hallway, up the stairs, and into a small room on the northeast side. Then he put a blanket around my shivering shoulders and brought me a cup of tea. He didn’t try to assail me with questions about where I’d been for the last two years or so, or why I’d left. He didn’t ask me to speak about what had happened, and I wasn’t ready to tell him, or anyone. He just squeezed my hand tightly, with the utmost care.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I squeezed his hand back. “I’m sorry, too.”

Within a few days, we were ready to announce that the princess had returned, and that I was taking up to my former regency. I worried that I would have to face the wrath of the populace, but when I stepped out onto the balcony, I was greeted with thunderous applause and wild cheers from every direction. Words of adulation and love echoed through the courtyard. Grateful tears swelled up in my eyes. They’d already forgiven my sins. They were just happy to have me back.

I told them how sorry I was that I had left them, and I promised I would be their devoted leader ever more. About what had happened to me, I said nothing. Let them work out the details for themselves.

I did have to face some sharp lectures from my advisors in the long hours that followed. But that was all right. I more than deserved it. As I listened to their account of everything that had happened in my absence, it became clear to me just how cruel I had been in abandoning them. I had left them to manage the kingdom by themselves without their only heir. I had stolen my people’s hopes for a bright future, leaving them in anarchy. I had abandoned everything I had known of duty, and let the nation’s proud traditions crumble to ruins. All for what? All so I could run halfway across the continent to marry a man I barely knew. I had been such a selfish fool.

I couldn’t believe it had all been a lie. Two years of my life were gone, with nothing to show for them. I’d been so sure I knew the man I was marrying, certain that he was a kind, thoughtful, honorable king. Now it seemed like I’d scarcely known him at all. For all the time I’d known him, he’d been lying to me. And quite successfully, too. I’d never questioned why he needed to renovate his portraits, why he had so many unlabeled statues, why, for God’s sake, he kept a lava moat—I just swallowed his preposterous claims like a child, trusting him beyond reason.

And all the while, that grotesque, nightmarish creature had been lurking underneath his handsome gentleman’s skin. Writhing like a parasite. And somehow I’d never seen the truth.

He’d spoken of love, of fellowship in literature and learning. Had any of that meant anything? Or had it all been a ploy to lure me into his bed? I wanted to believe that the moments we’d shared together had been real. Had meant something. But how could I trust a man capable of concealed his entire being from me? He’d proven himself a skilled liar—it was all too likely that he meant nothing of what he said.

It seemed impossible, now, that I’d ever known the real Bowser. More likely he he’d needed me, for God knows what purpose. Perhaps I was only there to give birth to his heir.  How many times had he talked of his bloodline? He had used me. He’d found a lonely young woman, desperate for a friend, and preyed on her emotions. He’d used me as the womb for his demonic seed. And when his ruse was no longer needed, the truth had come out. I felt sick to my stomach.

Grief and fury ran through me at once. I hated him, hated him for stealing part of my life from me. I had been so close to a life that made sense, a life where I wasn’t another point on an endless line of rulers, a life that I could call my own, a life where I was happy with a man I loved and a son I could call me own.

I felt another hot surge of anger. My son. He had even taken my son from me. Worse—he’d made it so I’d never had a son at all. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of twisted mind would be capable of something like that. And to think I had once let him draw near me. Never again. I had the marriage annulled, by every measure I could think of.

Naturally, he tried to contact me. Letters arrived from him. I told the servants to stop accepting them. Koopa envoys showed up at our doorstep, with messages for me. I had them turned away. Bowser could sent a thousand envoys as far as I was concerned. I was done with him.

I didn’t know if I could forgive myself for abandoning the kingdom, but at least I had the forgiveness of its people. I didn’t deserve their esteem, but I promised myself I would try to live up to it. I would make things right. I would redeem myself. I threw myself into my duties more than I ever had before. If I attended every ball, observed every formality, honored every tradition, and did my utmost to make the kingdom a better place for all its citizens, then maybe, just maybe, I could redeem myself.

Time passed. Long and empty months faded away without leaving an impression on the memory. I was lonelier than I’d ever been in my life, lonelier even than when I first took the throne. But this time, there was no one I who could pull me out of it.

Or so I thought.

And then, one spring day, a man appeared, quite literally, out of nowhere.

I was just heading back to my chambers from a rather late lunch when one of my assistants rushed up to me. “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but there’s a small group here requesting an audience with you.”

I sighed—another complication to the day. But I wouldn’t turn them away. “Did they happen to say what they were after?” I asked.

The assistant looked nervous. “That’s just it, ma’am. It’s two Toads and a strange man who claims he’s from another world.”

I stared at him. “Does he have any way to back up his claim??”

“With himself, ma’am,” the Toad explained. “He’s no Toad. He looks—he looks rather like your family, ma’am.”

I blinked. “I’ll see him.”

When I had composed myself, I went down to the reception hall, and there they were. I thought I recognized at least one of the Toads: his name was Agaric or something like that, wasn’t it? Wasn’t he the son of some official or another? Yes, that seemed right. Someone I knew at one point.

But it was the man who drew my attention. He towered over the Toads—he was just a bit shorter than me. His skin was a rosy color, richer than the pale white flesh of the Toads. His eyes were a bright blue, and the hair that stuck out from beneath his cap was brown. A dark, fluffy moustache hung down around his lip. There could be no question of his species: he was like me. He was utterly, blissfully normal. He looked like he could be some obscure member of the royal family, a long-lost cousin or uncle.

He was dressed in red and blue, wearing a red checkered shirt with long sleeves beneath blue denim suspenders. A red cap with a large “M” sat wedged on his head; when I looked closer I saw that the M was part of a logo for Mario Brothers Plumbing and Repairs. He wore thick white gloves on his hands—I guessed later he’d probably forgotten to take them off when he arrived here. He was a thickset man with a bit of a pot belly, like my father, but he had strong, muscular shoulders and arms. Strong legs, too, I thought. He rose when he saw me and did his best to bow, though he it was clear he’d never done it before.

The Toads told me their story: how they’d found him on the road just outside of town, and when they’d asked his nationality, he told them he was from a land called Brooklyn. The three of them realized that this land seemed to lie in another world entirely, and eventually concluded that he’d crossed some sort of border between universes.

I turned to the man in red. “And what is your name, good man?”

He smiled a crooked but warm smile. “I’m-a Mario, Your Majesty. Mario Miglionico.”

“Mario,” I said, and he beamed at me.

I asked Mario to recount how he had come to our land. In his world, it seemed he was just an ordinary plumber. And then, one day, he had found a pipe that didn’t lead where it was supposed to. Instead, it led him here.

“And I’d just like to say,” he concluded, “that I’m really glad it did, because otherwise I mighta never had the chance to meet such a beautiful and charming ruler as yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

I tried not to blush as I murmured a quick thank you.

I asked him a great deal of questions about where he’d come from and what his world of Brooklyn was like. There was always the chance he could be a con man of some sort. It was true he looked like no one else around here save my distant relatives—but I’d certainly been fooled before. I peppered him with questions about his world, trying to catch him in a contradiction. He answered flawlessly. He was happy to tell me about Brooklyn, a borough in a great costal city, and about Italy, the land his parents had emigrated from.

“And what type of beings live in your world?” I asked him.

He blinked. “Don’t think I know what you mean.”

I tried again. “You see, our kingdom is populated by such beings as Toad and Goomba. And then there are those few who are like myself. What other kinds of beings do you have?”

“Nobody,” he said. “There’s just us.”

“You mean to say that everyone in your world resembles you?” I asked, taken aback.

“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone’s like me.”

Finally, I was forced to conclude that either he’d rehearsed his story perfectly, or he really was telling the truth. I asked if I could see the pipe. The three of them agreed to take me to the spot. Two carriages were found—Mario and the two Toads piled into one, while my guards and I took the other. As I stepped into the vehicle, I couldn’t help but notice Mario turn to catch my eye as he stepped into his own.

There wasn’t much to see, really: there was indeed a large green pipe sticking out of the side of the hill, but it was impossible from where we stood to see where it went. It was apparent, though, that it went on a great deal farther than the laws of physics would seem to suggest. Fair enough. I’d seen magic that could do such things before. I was willing to believe his story.

I had the guards set up a watch on the portal, and made a mental note to have one of them investigate its contents later. (Much, later, they would—and their report described a great city of impossibly tall buildings, manic self-powered carriages, and cold steel.) I asked Mario if he wanted to return home, and he admitted he did. We watched him walk down the pipe until he had disappeared from sight.

That night, I lay awake, thinking about the stranger who had stumbled into our kingdom. There was something incredibly compelling about this Mario. He was so reassuringly normal. No strange protuberances, no scales. Not even any sense of pretension or grandeur. He was just, simply, himself. I admired his honesty. I could hardly believe that there was a whole other world out there of people just like him. I wanted it to be true. I wanted to believe that there was a world like that out there.

And unless I’d been entirely misreading his intent, this man was interested in me.

I spent a long time trying to figure out how I felt about that. I supposed there was no reason why I couldn’t find love again. But I wasn’t sure if I was ready. How long had it really been since I put Bowser behind me? Did I really want to get tangled up again in romance and all its trappings with a man I barely knew?

All right, fine, I told myself. So I didn’t really know him. But perhaps at some later point, we’d know each other better. I’d have a real feel for who this Mario was. And then—well, who knows? Already his presence seemed to have lifted me out of my doldrums like a breath of fresh air. I hoped he’d return soon, so that I could see more of him, learn more about his Brooklyn and his world.

As I drifted off, it occurred to me that my advisors would want me to marry again anyway. And he seemed, at the very least, a hell of lot better of a choice than Arthur Peasely. The kingdom could use somebody like Mario, I thought. A humble man, a working man, who knew how to get things done. And with that thought, I finally fell asleep.

The next morning, I was heading down to breakfast when I heard shouts outside. I looked out the window and saw the palace guards grappling with what looked like a small, green army. I heard angry voices on the stairs, getting closer. I locked the door and looked around wildly for objects with which I could block it.

But the door burst open with a blast of fire, and my makeshift obstacles were scattered.  A mass of green turtles in uniforms and robes surged into my bedroom and surrounded me. I tried to grab something to hit them with, but they were right up against me in seconds. They grabbed my clothing and my hair so that I couldn’t move. Then one of them held a cloth up to my nose. I struggled, but in a moment I’d inhaled its fumes…

And then the whole world went black.

I have vague memories of a long, awful journey. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. I remember being thrown roughly into the back of a carriage, and I remember being shaken awake by the bumps and shocks of the road and finding my hands and feet bound before passing out again. When I look back on it now, it seems like a strange, sickening dream.

Finally, I came to.

Through half-open eyes I realized that I was sitting in a familiar room. Ah, good, I thought blearily— I’m home. And then I realized that this wasn’t my home. Not any longer.

I opened my eyes with a start. I was in the castle of the Koopas. And there, sitting across from me in a lavish chair, was a man I knew all too well.

Shit. I glanced from Bowser’s pale, human face to the sides of the room. All the doors were closed—probably locked. I realized that I couldn’t move my arms and legs—I was tied to an ornamental chair.

Oh, God, what was he going to do? My heart was pounding. I tried to open my mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Bowser blinked. “Oh, good. You’re awake. We can finally talk.” He gave a pained smile. “I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult. It was the best I could do. I know it was on rather short notice.”

I stared at him. What?

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I’m sorry about the bonds. The military can be a little… overzealous. Are you comfortable?”

 “Am I _comfortable?”_ I managed.  “No, I don’t think I’m _comfortable._ I’ve just been dragged across hundreds of miles of country like a slab of rotten meat, and now I wake up to find myself tied to a chair without the slightest idea what the hell is going on. So, no, I wouldn’t use the term “comfortable” to describe my circumstances.”

He looked nervous. “I thought you might say something like that. Look, I—I should just untie the stupid ropes already. Here—” He got up and strode toward the back of the chair.

“No, don’t—“ I started to say. But he was behind me in a second. I flinched—but it was just his ordinary, soft hands, gently untying the knots that bound my arms and hands. After those were loose, he knelt down and undid the ropes around my legs. I rubbed my sore limbs with some relief.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “Now you’re free to do as you like.”

I nodded toward the locked door. “Except leave, apparently.”

He flinched. “Look, ordinarily I would, it’s just that—I can’t let you leave just yet. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything I have to say.”

“No, we couldn’t have that, could we?” I said, in a high voice. I realized I was shaking.

A moment passed. Finally I broke the silence. “Look, whatever, sick, twisted revenge you have in mind—you’ll have it. But I have no intention of making it the slightest bit easy for you.”

“Revenge!?” he asked. “Peach, what are you talking about? What would I want revenge on you for?”

“For running away from you,” I stammered. “For seeing through your lies, for knowing what your real plan was—”

“What plan?”

“Your plan to—” I ran through the different possibilities in my head. “To seduce—to corrupt—to sire—” Suddenly it was all too clear to me that none of these ideas made any sense.

“Peach,” he said weakly, “I didn’t bring you here for revenge.”

“What, then?” I demanded.

He shrank back into the chair in a pitiful way. “I just—I just wanted to talk to you , that’s all. I would never, ever, do something like that. How could you think I’d ever want to hurt you? I was never even mad at you, I just…I understood exactly why you left. I just wanted you here so I could explain, that’s all. I just wanted you to hear the whole story.”

His eyes were wide and pleading. “God, Peach, do you really think I’m capable of something like that? Don’t you know what kind of person I am? Didn’t we live together? Did I ever seem capable of bearing a grudge like that? Of hurting someone like that?”

I winced. He had a point. The story I’d been telling myself—that Bowser was a cruel, tyrannical man, even a demon—didn’t fit with anything I’d known. I’d known a man who’d been loving, joyous, and daring. Kind to me, and generous to his subjects. The height of decency. But the problem remained—how well could I really have known this man if he’d been able to lie to me for so long?

“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” I said flatly. “I thought I did. But it’s a bit hard to make that claim when honesty goes out the window. I trusted you, and you lied to me, Bowser. For all I know, you lied about a thousand other things besides.”

He bowed his head. “I know. There’s no reason to trust a damn thing I say anymore, is there? I’ve screwed that up, too. Just—please. Please believe me that I never meant to hurt you.”

“All right,” I said, though I still had my reservations. “The fact of the matter is, Bowser, you did hurt me, whether you meant to or not. You hid something very important about yourself from me, and then you spun a web of lies around me so I wouldn’t find out. You can’t expect me not to be shocked by that. And I’m more than a little offended that you’d treat me like a fool.”

“I know,” he said,  face flushed. “That’s why I brought you here. I wanted to tell you…I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I wanted you to know how awful I feel about what happened between us.”

He took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how much I regret lying to you for so long. I should never have tried to hide the truth from you. It was a huge mistake.”

I watched him for a moment, trying to read what was in his face. “And?”

“And I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m sorry about what happened between us. I couldn’t let you think I wanted you to go through that. I had to see you at least one more time, so that I could make amends. I’m sorry.”

He seemed honest enough. But there was still something odd about the way he repeated these things. It was almost rehearsed.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad to hear that.” And I meant it. Then I turned toward the door. “Now, if we’re all done here, I’d like to go home.”

“No,” he said, a bit sharply. “Don’t you think we need to say more than that? Can’t you stay just a bit longer?”

“What does it matter?” I asked. “We’re in agreement: you made a big mistake. And now you tell me that you regret it. That’s good to know.”

“Why do I feel like you haven’t actually accepted my apology?” he asked, eyes flashing.

“Why do I feel like you never made one?” I demanded. “You tell me that you’re sorry about ‘what happened.’ Fine. You tell me you ‘regret it.’ Fine. You say you didn’t want me to think ill of you. Fine. None of that actually has anything to do with me. Nowhere do I get the impression you’ve put the slightest bit of thought into what it was like for me that day. How I felt when my life was ripped apart.”

I gave the closed iron door a hard rap with a knuckle. “And judging from the way you’ve taken me prisoner, you never planned to.”

“Now, Peach,” he said roughly, “that isn’t fair. I brought you here because I had to. There wasn’t any other way to reach you. You didn’t answer any of my letters, you sent away my envoys—”

“With good reason, I thought,” I insisted.

“—So, finally I decided to…to just bring you here myself.” He looked pained.

“Let’s just call it what it is,” I said. “You _kidnapped_ me, Bowser. I am currently your captive. ”

“Fine,” he said, waving the idea away with a hand. “The point is—”

Suddenly I remembered the shouting and the clamor down in the grounds. “How exactly did you get in, anyway?” I asked. “You didn’t try to attack the guards head-on?”

He gave an uneasy glance at the door. “I…may have brought an expeditionary force of some five hundred soldiers to the Mushroom capital.”

“You did _what_?”

He held up a hand. “I know it wasn’t strictly necessary, but I thought if I could play on my generals’ desire to go to war—”

“Bowser—you started a war over this!?” I demanded.

“Just a little one—a feint of sorts—“

“Bowser, are you telling me that right now, there are Toad and Koopa dying out there, stabbing each other with swords and spears, putting their lives on the line, all because you wanted to see me and have this stupid conversation?”

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” he said sharply, “but I thought it was the best thing to do—”

“I don’t think you understand,” I said, rounding the chair and staring directly into his face. “These are Toads I’ve grown up with. Some of them my good friends. All of them my people, Bowser. And I will not have them impaled on your blades. And for God’s sake, Bowser, you’re not even thinking about your own people? I thought you wanted to be a benevolent sovereign. How many Koopa are you willing to kill for this cause?”

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry about that, all right? But you left me with no other choice. You shut me out. You refused to talk to me. But I had to see you, so I could apologize, and there was no other way to do so.”

“You think this is an apology?” I shouted. “Killing the people I care about in a farce of a war? Holding me here? I can’t believe this even needs to be said, Bowser, but when you want to get back in someone’s good graces, _the best way of doing it is not to kidnap them!_ At the very least, you could have come to my castle yourself if you needed to see me so damn much—”

“Yes,” he said sourly, “I’m sure that would have been very effective. Go ahead and tell me that you wouldn’t have turned me away the moment I landed on your doorstep.”

“All right, fine,” I conceded, “But I had my reasons, didn’t I? You _lied to me._ You betrayed everything our marriage stood for, and smiled at me while doing it. I was shocked then, and I’m still hurt now. Why should I trust you? You claim you want to apologize, but I don’t think you feel you did the slightest thing wrong.”

“Well, if we’re being honest,” he said, “I don’t. I wish things hadn’t fallen apart between us, and I’m sorry about that, but I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“I can’t believe this,” I spat. “You don’t see anything wrong with not telling your wife that you and her only son are these…these hideous _things?_ That you’re some kind of grotesque, flesh-eating demon? You seriously don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“No,” he said slowly. “I see something wrong with being so wrapped up in your own xenophobic idea of the world that you leave a man who loves you, and refuse to speak to him ever again, the moment you find out he’s uglier than you were expecting.”

His words struck me like a bolt of lightning.

His voice was quiet, but intense. “When I married you, I knew the disguise was absurd. But I suppose I had the thought, somewhere in the back of my head, that I’d found someone who loved me completely. Someone with an open mind, who’d be more than willing to forgive my flaws and my mistakes. So I thought that perhaps, one day, when  I told her the truth, she’d be able to love my real face just as much as the false one, and see that it, too, was beautiful. I’m sorry to say that that wasn’t the case.”

“I’m sorrier still that the woman I love flee not only flees at the very sight of me, but cuts off all contact with me, and uses such choice words as ‘demon,’ ‘grotesque,’ and ‘hideous’ to describe me.” His face was savage. “What if I’d been burned in a fire, Peach? Would you still run away from me, then? What if I’d been scarred in battle? What if our son had developed some crippling disease? Would you still abandon him as a demon, as a plague on your happy ending?”

I looked down at the ground in silence for a long time. I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was right. I’d been shallow and superficial—nastier than I would have ever imagined I could be. I didn’t know what to say.

“You’re right,” I said, after a long silence. “I’m sorry. I never should have run away like that. I’ve been rather shitty to you. Scratch that, I’ve been really, horribly shitty. I owe you an apology, too. I’m sorry.”

He said nothing, still watching me.

“What you have to understand,” I said, groping for words to describe the way I felt, “is that you scared me, all right? You scared the shit out of me. I don’t deal well with unusual creatures. Toads and Koopas I can handle. A nine-foot behemoth like you turned out to be is another story altogether.”

He nodded slowly, still silent.

“I mean, when I see teeth, and claws, and horns like that—the last time I saw teeth like that was when they were dripping with blood, and I can’t look at something like that, all right? I just can’t. And maybe that’s a moral failing on my part, but I can’t help it. It’s the way I am.”

“All right,” he said quietly.

“You’re right that I shouldn’t have run out like that. But I did feel—I did feel really betrayed. And I still do.” I tried to get a grasp on why. “I still think there’s something wrong with lying like that. Especially for so long. To a person who trusts you and wants to know you as you are.”

He let out a deep, slow breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

“When I left my home and came here to marry you,” I said quietly, “I was under the impression that there was an agreement between us. And that was what it was all about. I thought that we were partners in every sense—that we wanted to bring who each of us were together, and make something new from that. And that meant no secrets. It meant giving our whole selves to each other, not just a part. At least, I felt that way. I’m not sure if you felt the same.”

“I did,” he said slowly. “Believe me, I did.”

“Well, then, you see the problem there,” I said. “I thought I knew who you were—but you hid a vital piece of the picture. So I came here under false pretenses. Really, Bowser, can you imagine any relationship thriving with an omission that enormous? I mean, what if you hadn’t told me you’d had children? Or if I gave you the impression I was a royal heir when I was actually some drunken Toad from the boondocks? Or if one of us had been paralyzed, or blind, or something like that? These are the kind of things you have to talk about—don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“So, while I shouldn’t have treated you like a demon or ogre or whatever—I want you to understand why I didn’t—and don’t—enjoy being lied to.”

“Yes,” he said, suddenly animated. “But you don’t understand, Peach. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to. I had to. There was no other way.”

“Really?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Because I can imagine plenty of alternatives. Honesty, for one.”

“Don’t be snide,” he said testily. “I’m trying to explain.” He frowned. “Do you remember how I told you about Luciotta?”

I nodded. “Your former wife, yes.”

“Right.” His eyes darkened. “What I didn’t tell you is what the bastards in the court did to her. They stole her body, Peach. They made her like—like me.”

I shuddered, but did my best to keep listening.

“She was just an ordinary Koopa girl, Peach,” he lamented. “But they claimed it was better for the bloodline if she was transformed into royal form. It was that, more than anything else, that caused her such grief. It was that which killed her. And I didn’t do anything to stop them. I failed to save her.”

He strode across the room, agitated. “When I met you, I knew I couldn’t let the same thing happen to you. So I swore to spare you that whole ugly world. I fought the court and tried to make for you and me a world where you’d never have to see such a demonic creature, let alone become one.”

I thought about how long I would have lasted in Luciotta’s position. About three seconds, probably. “Well, I appreciate the gesture,” I said. “But I can’t help but wish you’d just told me the whole story in the first place. I can’t imagine Luciotta would have wanted you to spin such a web of lies. As a matter of fact, I don’t think she would have wanted you obsessing over her memory, either.”

“But I failed her!” he cried. “I had to redeem myself.”

I shook my head. “From what? You did everything you could. She was trapped in a shitty situation, and neither of you could change that. I don’t see why it has to be about you. You’ve made her whole life into a story about your failure. A cautionary tale that shapes everything you do. Don’t you think that’s doing her a disservice? Reducing her from a person with her own hopes and fears, in all her complexity, into a simple metaphor? Isn’t that an insult to who she really was?”

“You may be right,” he said weakly. He let out a deep sigh. “In that case, Peach, I really do owe you an apology. The best of intentions were meaningless when I still hurt you very deeply. More deeply than if I’d done nothing. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you had to go through such an awful experience. I’m sorry I screwed everything up.” And this time he really seemed to mean it.

“Apology accepted,” I said gently, “if you’ll accept mine for treating you like some kind of criminal.”

He nodded. “Likewise.”

“Well,” I said, putting on a brave face, “shall we put an end to this ridiculous war?”

Another nod. “Let’s.”

I strode over to the locked door. “And once we’ve done that, I can rendezvous with the Mushroom troops and make my way back home.”

He sprang up so fast it was almost blinding. “No!” he cried. “Please! Don’t leave! You can’t go just yet.”

I rounded on him. “God damn it, Bowser, what the hell do you want from me? You’re still going to keep me locked up in here? After all of this? You wanted a conversation. You got one. So let. Me. Go home.”

“I thought this _was_ your home,” he said, his voice harsh. “I thought…” He trailed off. “I thought you’d want to come back, once you heard what I had to say. I thought you’d come back here again and live with me. I thought you’d want to go back to the way things were.” His eyes were pleading with me.

I blinked. The thought had never even occurred to me. As much as I’d been happy here, this wasn’t my home anymore. And I didn’t know how I could make him see that.

“Bowser,” I said quietly. “As much as it might be nice to go back to the way things were, we can’t erase what happened. We’ve changed. We’re different people now, with different goals.”

He shook his head fervently. “No. Never. I can’t leave you behind like that. I couldn’t give up on you.”

“Maybe that’s not entirely your choice?” I suggested kindly. “Bowser, what we had together was wonderful. I won’t deny that. But it’s over now. There’s no point in trying to bring it back. I think the best thing for each of us would be if we were to go one with our lives. Live, and be happy, and maybe try to find someone new.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s why you’re saying all this, isn’t it? You’ve already found someone else.”

I thought about it. There was no harm in telling him the truth, simple as it was. “Sort of. I’ve been keeping my eye on someone I met recently. An odd man, who seems like an interesting fellow.”

His eyes flashed. “Would this by any chance be a small man with a moustache? A man who goes about in blue suspenders and a red cap?”

“Yes,” I said, startled. “How on earth did you know?”

“Because he’s been tearing down the whole damn kingdom looking for you,” Bowser snarled. “He and another like him, in green—his son or his cousin or something—and a group of Toads have been tracking us for days, mowing down any Koopa or Goomba in their way. They march into every town and demand to know the whereabouts of their beloved princess.”

He folded his arms. “I’ll have you know your friend has become a real nuisance. We had to change castles a number of times because he kept getting too close to your location. Finally we just came back here. And that still didn’t shake him. At last report, his little group was attempting to lay siege to the castle—” He took a small crystal from his pocket and held it up to his ear, listening intently. “And he may be on his way here now.” He snorted. “Give a fool a bag of magic tricks, and suddenly he thinks he’s a hero.”

I had to say, I was impressed. I hadn’t expected anything like this of the small, inoffensive man I’d met at the palace. I felt rather flattered that I’d merited such dedication in his eyes.

Bowser shot me a sharp glance. “And…what, you’re interested in this…this _gentleman_?” he said with distaste.

I shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I’m waiting to see, I guess. But I will tell you I admire anyone who’d go to such lengths for my sake.”

“I can’t believe this,” he spat. “I can’t believe you’re going on and on about some other man you’re going to have tons of sex with while I’m standing here. I can’t believe I’m letting you get away with that.”

“Get away with—?” I said, flaring up. “Bowser, what exactly gave you the idea you got to control what I could and couldn’t do?”

“We were married,” he pleaded. “We were supposed to stay together until death did us part. We made our mistakes, but we were supposed to overcome them. You were supposed to forgive me and come back. Otherwise it doesn’t make any sense—otherwise there’s no happy ending—otherwise I’ve just—I’ve just failed, completely—”

“This is just more of the same thing you were going on about with Luciotta,” I said furiously. “You have to redeem yourself—whatever. Why is it my being locked in a room that determines that? Why am I your answer instead of a person? I’m going, Bowser. You can’t keep me here.”

“Yes, I can,” he growled. “I can lock these doors. I can use magic to block your escape. There are a thousand things I can do to keep you in this room until you see reason.”

“Reason?!” I demanded. “You think any of what you’re saying is _reasonable?_ We’re not your treasures, to hoard in some cave. We’re not prizes that you won in some dumb game! We’re people! Luciotta was, I am—we have our own lives, and we’re not put on earth to represent your success or failure at being a good person! I can’t be just a symbol for you, Bowser! I wanted to be your partner—your friend! I never asked to be your redemption!”

“You will stay here with me!” he roared. “You will come back and live with me, whether you like it or not! I will keep you here no matter how many spells I have to cast, no matter how many damned rescuers you let in, no matter if I have to tear the walls of this castle down to do it! I WILL NOT LOSE—”

“BOWSER, FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMNED LIFE, LISTEN TO YOURSELF!” I shouted.

That shut him up. He just stared at me, his mouth hanging open.

“My god, Bowser,” I said roughly. “Are you paying any attention to the things you’re saying? Do you realize that you sound like some kind of psychopath? Going on and on about how you’re going to keep me prisoner? Are you seriously thinking this through?”

He continued to gape at me, wide-eyed. He looked terribly worn, a far cry from the bluster he’d thrown around a minute ago. Every word that I spoke seemed to hit him like a dagger.

I pressed on. “I never would have imagined you were capable of some of the things you’ve done! Killing hundreds of people in a hideous war? Kidnapping your own wife? Raving about controlling her like a murderous maniac? Look at yourself, Bowser. For God’s sake, look at yourself. What have you allowed yourself to become?”

Bowser swallowed, hard. His mouth opened as if to say something, but I heard no sound. Finally, with a shudder, he spoke again.

“A monster,” he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

And in that moment I understood.

I’d thought myself a romantic king, winning back his love with sweeping, noble gestures. I’d thought that if I did everything right, she had to come back to my side, rejecting all other suitors. I’d thought I was the hero of this tale. But I was wrong. The hero would be the one who took her from my arms.

I was always destined to be its villain.

Deluded dragon! Melodramatic, stark raving fool! You were never meant for her. Nor she you. She deserved better than you could offer her. She deserved better than lies and ugliness. She deserved better than your twisted desire to hold and to keep.

I’d imagined reconciliation. I’d imagined that she’d leap back into my arms once I’d made her see the truth. But I was the one who needed the veil taken from my eyes. I’d wounded her deeply with my dishonesty, more deeply than I’d ever realized. And worse, I’d turned that moment into something selfish and awful. As I had done, over the years, with Luciotta. As I had always done, slashing at the world for answers.

I’d lied, and built lies upon lies. I’d killed hundreds in a terrible war. I’d kidnapped an innocent woman. I’d shouted and screamed at her, the image of the very monster she most feared. All so that I could hear, in a scene that only existed inside my head, the words “You are forgiven.”

She cut me to the bone with her questions and her answers. And in a moment when she could have screamed, could have turned away, could have tried to run, she challenged me instead. She showed me what I’d become.

Of course, unbeknownst to her, it was what I’d been all along. It was just clearer now, rising to the surface. And now I knew it, too. I was a monster.

Image after image from the stories of my childhood came pouring back to me. Forget Perseus and Galahad—they were the forces that opposed me. I was the dragon, crouching in the cave over its gold. I was the Orochi, slurping down maidens. I was the Minotaur, and Cetus too, and all the other grotesques. But most of all, I was the tyrant, refusing to let go of his kingdom. I was the creature for whom _having_ meant more than anything else. Who would rather watch everything crumble than lose what he possessed. That was what I was.

And next to that, this other man, this red-capped warrior, was a hero. Even a savior. Let him come, take Peach from my clutches. He had already won, long before. I was destined to lose her. Let her go off with someone other than me. A better man. Let her be happy. Let her live in bliss somewhere else, ever after.

And deep down I knew that this new story was another lie, another illusion, that I was just forcing Peach into another narrative, as I had always done. But what else was I to do? At least this one seemed to accord with the truth: that for a creature like me, there was no point in seeking redemption. I was destined for this road. I was forever irredeemable.

I looked across at Peach, and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if there was anything I could say. I’d said so many words already, and none of them had come anywhere near the truth. I’d apologized, over and over. But now I truly had something to be sorry for.

Without warning, I found myself weeping. My whole body shook, and I wept, tears pouring silently down my face. It was all over now. She would be gone, and I would be alone. And that was all right, wasn’t it? It was the way it had to be. It was someone else’s happy ending. 

Peach watched me quietly from across the room, and her gaze slowly softened. She seemed to be about to say something. But a voice crackling from my pocket interrupted us both.

It was the communication crystal. Wiping my face, I took the little orb and held it up to my ear. The voice of one of the Koopa commanders crackled to life. “Sir! Urgent report!”

“What is it?” I asked hoarsely.

“The scuffle at the west gate was just a distraction—the man in red’s broken through our defenses. Already he’s fought his way past the last phalanx of incendiary forces, and he’s almost at the thermal chamber now, heading your way. Our best option now is to pull in the troops from the exterior and cut off his path. We might sustain heavy casualties, but we’d stop him for sure. Shall I give the order, sir?”

“No,” I told him. “Fall back. We’ll let him do as he likes.”

“But sir—”

“It’s over, Commander. Let him through.”

The voice fell silent. I wiped my eyes again and went over to the far door. I turned the key and pulled it wide open. I turned back to Peach.

“Peach, I know…I know I can’t begin to make this up to you. But—here’s a safe passage for you so you can get home. If you go all the way down the stairs and take the hallway on your right, you’ll be able to get to the stables without anyone seeing you. And here—” I scrawled a brief note, appending my most regal signature. “Show this to the stable master, and she’ll provide you with a swift horse, and you’ll be out of the country before you know it.”

She took the note, glanced at it, and peered down the hallway for a bit. Then she patted my shoulder. “It’s a really nice gesture, Bowser. I’m just not sure I want to take the risk of riding hundreds of miles by myself through a war zone.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.” I hadn’t thought of that.

“Besides,” she said, with a glance at the opposite door, “if this visitor’s travelled all the way here to rescue me, there should probably be someone waiting to be rescued when he arrives. Otherwise things may turn ugly.”

I nodded slowly. That made sense to me. She sat back in the chair, grimaced, and began trying to tie herself back up. “Let me help,” I said, and she consented. Slowly, I tied the gentlest, loosest bonds around her arms and legs. I could hear sounds of struggle echoing off in the distance. Moving closer.

I unlocked the other door, and gazed out along the black slash the bridge cut against the brightness below. The sounds were clearer now.

Peach glanced at me. “You’re leaving? I’d have thought you’d want to stay here and negotiate.”

“I think it’s better if I confront him,” I said slowly. “He’s come all this way expecting to fight a monster, too. Why not give him one to fight?”

She bit her lip. “Just be careful out there, all right? I know the thermal chamber’s pretty dangerous all on its own.”

“Not for me.” I said. “Not for my kind. A little lava doesn’t scare us. We’re at home in the flame.”

“Then just watch out that you don’t do anything stupid, all right? Don’t underestimate him.”

“I won’t,” I promised. As I turned to go, her words cut through the air once more.

“For what it’s worth, Bowser…” She hesitated. “Despite the circumstances, I am glad I had the chance to see you one more time.”

“Thank you,” I said. And then we both paused, because neither of us could bring ourselves to say that one final word. And suddenly we were both saying it together: “Goodbye.”

The door shut. I stood alone.

I shed my tiny, pale frame and resumed my full muscle and girth, monster in body and mind once more. Now I had only to wait.

And before long the door on the other side of the chamber slammed open, and a man in red appeared.

He was a bedraggled and pitiful little creature, I’ll say that much. He was short and stout with a little pot belly, and a drooping moustache hung above his lip. But his arms seemed strong, and he leered savagely at me. I had to admit I was unimpressed. Was _this_ the man who planned to take Peach out of here?

If you want her, I thought, show yourself to be a man. Come and take her from me.

I roared. I roared a godawful, thundering roar from the very bottom of my black heart, and poured into it everything I was feeling, all the pain, all the loneliness, all the self-loathing, all the fury.

He flinched. But the next moment, he shook himself, put on a brave face, and came charging at me.

It was then that I learned the secret to this little man’s success: he was relentless. Against any obstacle, he would keep charging ahead until he got what he was after. Hack him to pieces, and each fragment would keep fighting on until the last spark of life was taken from them. Fine, I thought, dodging his blows. I can be relentless, too.

I lunged at him with deadly claws. I spat white-hot flames. I whirled about like a mad beast, striking at him with horn, tail, and talon. He had some sort of magical shielding, but I broke through it time and again, leaving long red gashes on his skin.

I made each blow a test, an interrogation: just how far are you willing to go, hero boy? How badly do you want to save her? Are you willing to take a thousand blows, risk death a thousand times, to see her free? Are you the noble rescuer she deserves? Or are you the wretched coward who can’t go the full distance—a monster just like me?

Finally, after a long battle, I turned and saw the man in red, sweat pouring down his brow, crouching behind me. Somehow he’d gotten around to the other side of the bridge, where my fists had smashed loose a great chunk of stone. He took something out of his pocket—and then I saw what he was going to do.

I lunged at him, but it was too late. There was an explosion, and the bridge shattered to pieces all around me. I slid off a great slab of stone, and I fell—

I fell, I fell—

Down—

Down—

Down.

With a splash, the lava wrapped its warm arms around me, and I sank back in relief. He’d done it. The man in red had prevailed.

Let me die here, I prayed, as everything faded away. I could not burn, but I could drown. Let me drown, let my body dissolve into the rock. Let me fade away like a ghost at dawn. Everything would be better off now that I was gone. Peach would have a happy life with a man who deserved her. One of the heirs would take my throne. Everyone would prosper, with one more monster slain.

But I did not drown. I washed up along one of the lower platforms, and came to, to see Kamek and several of the guards pulling me out.

I was alive, and the war was over. She was gone, and the castle was empty once more. But perhaps that, too, was a story worth telling. The deposed king sits in a crumbling castle, facing the long decline at the end of all his days. Dissolution and death. That, too, would be fitting.

But no. I did not fade away. The pulse in my breast beats, for this monster remains very much alive. The tale breaks free of its ending, for a miracle took place.

She came back to me.

And even today, I still don’t understand how such a miracle could happen. What right had I to expect anything of her? Why should she care about a monster like me? But she did, oh, thank God, she did.

Weeks alone faded into months, months faded into years—but then her seal, her words, like a bright ray of light, cut through the gloom. A letter, from her, saying that she wanted to see me again.

And I’ve seen her so many times since. And each encounter is never long enough, but it matters, oh, how it matters that it’s there.

I can give no explanation. All I can say is that I’m profoundly grateful for the chance I’ve been given, to embrace her, and love her, time and time again.

And so I will be her loyal monster, ready to spirit her away to my dark cave at a moment’s notice. Ready to whisper serpentine secrets in her ear in the dead of night. Ready to challenge any who would rise to her aid, to test their mettle and make them worthy of her.

Her love is all anyone, man or monster, could ever need.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

The door closed. I was alone in the room.

I knew Bowser was only a few yards away, but it felt like he’d vanished off the edge of the earth. I had no idea how his fight with Mario would turn out, but it worried me. I hoped neither of them did anything stupid. I hoped there’d be someone left to arrange for my journey home at the end of the day.

I shivered beneath my bonds. The ropes were nowhere near as tight as they’d been before, but I found myself wishing I hadn’t decided to tie myself up again. Awaiting Mario like this had made perfect sense in my head. But now it struck me as absurd, like wearing a silly costume to a first date.

I waited in silence. And then I heard a terrifying roar, resounding like distant thunder. Then, shouting and snarling, and the crackling of flames. Finally, after a tremendous din that sounded like the very walls were coming down, there was silence.

A few minutes passed. Then the door opened, and Mario staggered in.

He was a mess, but he was grinning. His familiar red clothes were torn to shreds, and I spotted a few gashes on his face and shoulders. His face was sweaty, and he appeared to be covered in a layer of fine dust. Nonetheless, it was good to see him.

He bowed dramatically. “It’s over, your Majesty,” he said. “I’m-a here to bring you home.”

He knelt beside me and untied the ropes, and I relaxed. Then I stole a glance through the door behind him. A lot of changes seemed to have been made to the architecture, and I saw no sign of Bowser.

“Where is…where is the Koopa King?” I asked carefully.

“Defeated, your Majesty,” he pronounced. “The beast has been slain.” He grinned. “I tossed him into the lava, easy as pie. I figure he’s outta town for good. Nobody could survive a landing like that.”

I wasn’t so sure. I thought back to what Bowser had told me about his affinity with fire. But I said nothing.

Suddenly, Mario knelt, took my hand very gently and kissed it. I hadn’t expected any such thing. For a moment I froze up. But then I told myself to relax and enjoy the attention. It was over, I told myself. I was done with this castle forever. I was going home.

Mario seemed to read my thoughts. “You can rest easy now, your Majesty,” he declared. “The nightmare’s over. It’s time for you to go back to your kingdom.” Slowly, he helped me up. I realized that I was shaking. So much had happened to me in such a short time—a hellish journey, an emotional hurricane of a conversation with Bowser, and now this: finding myself rescued and courted by a man I’d met only days before. It would all take some time to come to grips with. But I accepted Mario’s aid, and rose to my feet, letting the useless ropes fall to the floor.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. And indeed, I was grateful. He’d come a long way and done a great deal for someone he’d only recently met. I hoped I’d still matter to him when all this was done. I took his hand as we rose, almost without thinking about it. He squeezed it, and I squeezed back.

We walked out of the castle, hand in hand.

As our carriage pulled away, past the armies of jubilant Toads, past the solemn Koopa and Goomba masses, I couldn’t help but turn around to see the Koopa castle one last time, watching as it disappeared from view. I hoped Bowser was all right. I hoped he’d understood what I’d been trying to say—and in those last few moments together, I thought he had. And I hoped he’d be able to move on, and be happy without me. I wished him all the luck in the world.

And in what seemed like no time at all, we were home. I was stunned at the cheering throng that greeted our carriage as we pulled into the city. Toads lined the road, laughing, shouting, some even weeping with joy as we passed though. Mario stuck his head out the window and waved at the crowd, a broad grin on his face. By the time we reached the heart of the city, we were surrounded by their adoring faces. Confetti and banners were everywhere, and I thought I heard music being played.

Toadsworth was waiting for us on the steps of the palace. “Oh, your Majesty,” he cried, “I’m so glad that you’re safe!” He embraced me as best he could.

“So am I,” I said, marveling at the crowd that had turned up. I could never have imagined that this many citizens cared so much about my safe return.

They wanted me to make a speech. I didn’t know what to say, really. My feelings about the whole event were too complicated to sum up in a pithy statement. And anyway, I doubted that I could follow on the heels of Toadsworth’s fierce rhetoric. “This day,” he thundered, “will live in glory forever forward! For this day, the war is over! For this day, we have shown the accursed Koopa the pride and the spirit of the Mushroom people! For this day, thanks to the bravery of one man, our beloved Princess has been set free!” The applause was deafening.

In the end I decided not to talk for very long. I spoke of the valor of our warriors, the suffering and sacrifices of our people in this terrible conflict, and the heroism of Mario and his company in bringing the strife to an end. I didn’t say anything about Bowser.

Mario was next. He looked out over the crowds with evident pride. “Well, first of all,” he declared, “I’m not too good at speeches, but I just wanna say that I’m so glad to have been given such a warm welcome by such a noble kingdom as your own. Makes me feel pretty special, that I can say for sure.” He beamed, and they beamed back.

“But I’m not that special of a guy. What I did was something anyone could do, I think. I just happened to be in the right place in the right time. Me, I’m a humble man. Just a guy who works for his dough, and who wants to make the world a better place. And that idea’s what kept me going during all that fighting, and that idea’s what makes the Mushroom Kingdom the greatest place I know.” The crowd cheered. They were eating this up.

“It sure does me good to see all your faces out there. I know you all work hard, whether that means working out in the fields, or raising your children to be good people. And that’s what I believe in, too: working hard for what’s right. And that’s why I went across the land and did what I did: because it was right. We couldn’t let a great woman like the Princess suffer in the grip of an evil king, and I know I sure as hell couldn’t leave you without your ruler. No sir.”

“But it wasn’t me alone who got us this victory. No, I couldn’ta done it without a lot of help. From my brother Luigi, who was with me every step of the way. From the brave Toads who fought alongside me and helped guide me through the wilderness. And most especially, from all those brave folks who fought, soldiers and civilians, against the Koopa menace. Thanks to all of you, we kept those slimy turtles from overrunning our borders and made sure the kingdom stayed the same beautiful place it’s always been! So thank you!”

“And that’s also what makes this place great! When evil tries to destroy all we hold dear, we don’t let it win, oh no sir! We strike it down! We send filthy creeps like the Koopa King crawling back into the ugly holes they crawled out of! And we’ll do it again and again whenever the time is right! No matter how hard the struggle, we’ll keep the Mushroom Kingdom strong, a place of freedom, a bright light to all who live in darkness! And that’s the way it’ll be for all time!” They were cheering, roaring, some overcome by tears at his words.

He took off his hat. “And that’s all I have to say about that, ladies and gentlemen. Many thanks to you kind folks for having me up here. You’ve made me feel right at home.”

The applause as he left the podium went on and on and on.

Before the week was out, we’d held another ceremony, awarding Mario and his brother special medals and honors for their services to the kingdom. I was happy to preside over the event. As I reached around to place the medal around Mario’s neck, my arms brushed his shoulders, and for a moment I felt the warmth of his body. He flashed me a smile equally warm. I thought I knew what that smile meant.

A few days after the ceremony, I called Mario into an office downstairs. Leaning across my desk, I began to interview him for the state archives. I asked him about his journey and his victory. How had he done it? What techniques had he used, what roads had he taken, and what had he seen along the way? Any Toad could have obtained these details. But I wanted to speak with Mario myself. He answered calmly, easily. Thoughtfully. His eyes never left mine.

After the interview was over, I suggested we take a walk in the gardens. He nodded, and we slipped out. The fading sun and the breeze were gentle as we walked about. I pointed at hedges and sculptures as we went, telling him everything I knew about their history, about the famed architects who had designed these grounds. He listened attentively.

And then, as we were rounding a tight corner between two hedges, our bodies brushed, and by the time we were on the other side, we’d fallen into an embrace. And as we held each other, Mario kissed me fiercely, his moustache tickling my lip. And oh, god, it felt so good, so fresh and exciting and new.

When we finally pulled away, Mario was gazing into my eyes. “Let’s go inside,” he said quietly. “Let’s not let this moment slip away from us.”

He’d caught me off guard. “I, um—are you sure?” I managed. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything like that—I mean, we’ve just started to get to know each other—”

“Maybe sometimes that doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “Peach, we’ve got a bond that’s greater than anything else on earth. You changed my life. I rescued you. That’s a connection you can’t deny. Maybe we were always meant for each other. Maybe we were always destined to meet.”

His breath was intoxicating. Very slowly, I nodded. Uncertainty was leaping in my stomach, but I trusted this man. And I wanted, oh how I wanted, to learn everything he had to share with me.

So we went up, up, up the steps, and I showed him a bed, in a large, dazzling room, and we slipped into its embrace, and together we had the wildest, most amazing night I’d had in a very long time.

And so, as quickly as the closing of a door, my old life vanished, to be replaced by something entirely new.

Life with Mario was a charmed life, for a time. It was certainly full of excitement. I’d never before played the host for so long. Mario visited the kingdom almost every day, and each day I had the pleasure of answering his questions about the chandeliers, about the portraits of my ancestors, about the white stone walls of the castle and the city that sprawled beneath it. He yearned to know everything about our world. I, too, had a great deal of questions about his land of New York, but he always tried to dodge them. In his mind, his homeland was neither special nor important.

Most of all, Mario was eager to see me. He was always quick with a compliment or a proclamation about love, and I found myself in bed with him time and time again. His attention was fierce, at times exhausting. Once he’d found you, it seemed, he wanted to hold you tightly and never let go. Before long, he told me that he and his brother were reducing their operations in the other world, so that they could live here permanently.  I knew it was something of a hassle for them to make the journey on a regular basis, so I set up quarters for the brothers in some of the unused rooms downstairs.

It was around this time that I first got to know his brother Luigi. Luigi was a younger, quieter man with a faraway look in his eyes. He was always slow and careful when he spoke. I liked him a great deal. After he arrived here, his interests turned to travel, and he set out on several tours of other cities and kingdoms. The last I heard, he was courting my cousin in Sarasaland, of all people.

The kingdom was certainly overjoyed to have the brothers here. After they’d heard the news that Mario and I were seeing each other, it seemed to be all that any Toad could talk about. Men, women, and children kept coming up to me and pumping my hand, congratulating me, declaring their best wishes for our happiness. And whenever they saw us together, the Toads would wave and cheer. Mario would wave and call back, saying, “Good to see you, Mycota!” or “How’s your health, Thallus?” It struck me that he had a knack for working the crowd.

And within the month, he’d found a perfect opportunity to put it to use. When a plaza on the eastern part of town flooded with water, it became clear that one of the major pipes had burst in the old aqueduct that brought fresh water down from the mountains and into the city. I sighed and prepared to send a messenger to the contractors I usually employed for this sort of thing.

But Mario’s eyes lit up when he heard the news. “Leave it to me, Peach,” he said. “I’ll go and announce about it tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow. That would mean several neighborhoods would be without water  for a day or so. But fine. I’d let him have his moment.

At the press conference the following day, thousands of Toads gathered to hear what Mario was going to say. To my surprise, Mario declared that not only was he going to fix the broken pipe, but he planned to renovate the entirety of the crumbling, ancient aqueduct, piece by piece, so that the kingdom would have a reliable, clean water supply forever  more. I watched him with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Oh, Mario—what had you gotten yourself into?

But I have to give him credit—he did it. He gathered up a team of Toads and went through the pipes, piece by piece, just as he had said, until it had all been restored. The process took him months, and it was physical, back-breaking work. But he would pass it off as if it was nothing, never missing a chance to flash a winning smile to the crowds that gathered around the construction sites. I saw him mostly in the evenings, then, for he would work during the day and come home to me at night, tired but very happy.

And when the final seal had been set on that project, to great applause, he was always ready with another idea. He insisted on being allowed to sit in on our council meetings so that he could “understand what problems affect-a the everyday Toad.” After a few weeks of listening in, he approached me eagerly with a notion. He wanted to use some of the money I’d given him to set up a charity for those orphaned by the war. And then one for the elderly. And then one for the infirm. I approved all of them, and they were duly set up in Mario’s name, a fact which caused him no small amount of pride.

Yes, the kingdom adored him, and with very good reasons. I didn’t go around setting up statues of him as many local mayors did, but I had to admit I, too, was caught up in his spell. I admired his inexhaustible zeal for public service. Here, I thought, is the kind of man I’ve always wished I could meet, like a storybook hero in his courage and selflessness, a little hokey, perhaps, but only because he stood out in contrast to an ugly world. Someone who never thought of himself before thinking of others, someone truly, honestly, good.

If only I had been right.

The trouble began when the material for our conversations drained away. Before long, I’d answered all Mario’s questions about local history and politics, about architecture and ancestry. After that, I found myself stumped for things I could actually talk to him about.

I tried engaging Mario about his interests, and he brightened at that. He had two great loves, he told me, other than the good people of the Mushroom Kingdom—good food and good music. He was more than happy to talk my ear off about the twinkling harmonies of a well-written jazz piece—“Listen to the way it flows,” he’d say, “Ba-da-ba-ba-doo-da! Ba—” and his passion for Italian cuisine led him to try a few culinary experiments in the royal kitchens. He pronounced our first few attempts at linguini passable, but insisted one day he’d have us perfect the recipe. No, on his own pursuits, Mario had no shortage of things to say.

But I had less success in getting him to listen. I tried—only a few times—to engage him about my philosophical studies, sharing with him all I’d learned from Alpto and Ripideau and eagerly asking him what he thought of their ideas. His only response was a shrug.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I never made a study of that typea thing myself.” And I was never able to pry any more from him. Literature was the same. He’d never even heard of Millway, and I couldn’t get him to tell me any comparable figures from his world, though surely there must be hundreds. He’d never cared to learn them. If he knew we had a library on the grounds, he’d never bothered to find out where it was.

It was a colossal disappointment to me, I had to admit. I’d so hoped to spend long evenings with him, trading stories from our different realms. I tried to move on. So we didn’t share many interests. Ah, well. Relationships had gone well on shakier foundations than that. We’d grow and learn from each other.

But he refused to learn anything more from me. I tried to bring up other topics, but he just shut them down. Gardening? He’d never cared for it. Dancing? He claimed two left feet. Ah, but get him on one of his projects like the aqueduct, and he’d go on and on whether I was listening or not. But unless I wanted to hear him ramble about things I knew nothing about, all that awaited me when I spoke to Mario was his bored expression and the rolling of his eyes.

It got to the point where we just stopped talking. There wasn’t anything left to talk about. We’d exchange pleasantries, talk about current events or the weather, but for the most part, we spent our time together in an awkward silence.

I tried to pretend it didn’t matter, that Mario and I were happy together—but in fact I was lonelier than I’d been in a long time, and deep down, I knew why.

Months passed between us in this strange, disjointed fashion. As the kingdom flourished, I grew more and more restless. But Mario seemed perfectly content. His dull silence around me did nothing to diminish his general joviality. He continued his jaunts about town, his chats with Mushroom citizens humble and exalted alike. And he continued to listen in on our political meetings, enjoying the benefits of his reputation.

One day, I came downstairs from an overlong appointment, my mind brimming with ideas for a festival we were about to hold in honor of the city’s war veterans. I was a bit late, but I figured they’d wait for me. But when I arrived at the council, I found nothing but an empty room, save for Mario and a few junior Toads putting papers away in their briefcases.

“What happened?” I asked Mario. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, we’re already done,” he said, nonchalant. “I thought we could wrap it up pretty quick, seeing as all they really wanted to know was what theme you wanted for the art and what color you wanted for the waiters at the ball. I told ‘em you’d be fine with sea-battles and blue. They liked botha those just fine, so we got done.”

“Mario,” I said, rounding on him, “Please don’t do anything like that again. I don’t want you speaking for me at council meetings. Next time, just wait for me.”

“Relax, Your Highness,” he said, giving me a strange look. “It’s not that bigova deal.”

“Yes, it is,” I started to say, “Mario, it is a big deal—” But he was already gone.

Not very long afterward, I went down into the garden for one of my customary evening strolls. To  my very great surprise, a pair of young guards I’d known for years stopped me at the door.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” one said, “but we’ve been told not to let you go wandering out by yourself at night.”

I blinked. “By whom?”

“Mario,” the other said, looking nervous. “He said it wasn’t safe. You might get kidnapped again.”

“What, does he think Koopas are just waiting around the hedges?” I demanded. “Fine—I’ll walk with you two, if you like.”

They looked at each other. “Our orders were very specific, ma’am. You’re not to leave the castle.”

I groaned. It was going to be a long night.

In the end, I did get that mess sorted out, with Toadsworth’s help, and my evening walks were reinstated. For a time. When I confronted Mario about it the next day, he shrugged and said he’d thought I’d see it as a favor.

“Life in the big city’s dangerous, Your Highness,” he said. “You never know who could be out there. No point in taking too many risks. Especially for a woman such as yourself.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. But Mario wouldn’t answer me, and he stayed mum for the rest of the day.

I brooded about all this for a while, and then tried to forget it. But then something happened that brought it all into sharp relief.

Mario announced one afternoon that he wanted to spend an evening together. I accepted, puzzled by how animated and loquacious he suddenly seemed. He prepared for me his very best Italian cuisine, and took me to a pleasant spot on the riverside, where we made amiable, if dull conversation as the sun went down over the water. When we’d finished our meal, Mario turned to me as he reached for something in his pocket.

“Peach,” he said slowly,” this time I’ve been here with you has been truly special—like nothing else I’ve ever known in my entire life. You’ve made it all possible.”

He took out a small box and laid it on the table . Then he flipped it open. Inside was a dazzling diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

I stared at him. I realized I should have seen this coming. But I hadn’t. I had no idea what to say to him, and my tongue felt odd in my mouth. I knew the answer he was waiting for. But I also knew that, no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to give it to him.

I laid my hand gently on his, and closed the box. “I’m sorry, Mario,” I said quietly. “I can’t.”

He looked shocked. “Why not?”

“Mario,” I said carefully, “I don’t think either of us are ready to make that kind of commitment. Not as things are now. We haven’t even known each other for a year yet.”

“That’s long enough!” he insisted. “Long enough for a connection as powerful as ours!

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I need more time. Much more time. I’m not about to rush into something like this.” I kept my voice quiet. “I made that mistake once before.”

He looked crushed, and I winced, but I had to keep going. “Maybe someday, Mario,” I said, though I had my doubts. “But not now. I’m sorry.” I rose. “Thank you for the dinner. I had a lovely time.”

We spent the ride back to the castle in an icy silence.

I thought he’d let the matter drop, but a few weeks later, at breakfast, Mario turned to me and said, “What about now?”

“Now _what?_ ” I asked, mouth half full of eggs.”

“Now getting married. You ready to get married now?”

I swallowed hard. “What—no! Mario, I didn’t say I was going to take a few weeks to think about it. I said that we needed a long time to get to know each other. I’m not interested in talking about it until then.”

But he kept bringing it up. In the hallway, on the way to a meeting. In the gardens, just past the fountain. Tangled up in bed.

“Mario,” I told him, “I’ve already given you my answer. I think we should take more time before we think about anything like that. At least a year or so.”

He brightened. “So in a year, you’ll marry me?”

“That wasn’t a promise!” I sputtered. “Mario, if it happens, it’ll be because I’m _ready.”_

“You’ll never be ready,” he muttered, turning to go.

And though I never admitted it to him, deep down, I knew he was right.

It wasn’t long before Toadsworth approached me after a council meeting, a knowing smile beneath his bristly moustache. “Your Majesty! Is the good news true?”

“What news?”

He glanced around at the nearly empty room, where a last attendant was packing up his papers, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “No need to keep secrets, my dear! The whole kingdom has been able to read the signs for some time now! Is it true that our Mario has asked you to marry him?”

How did he know? It was easy to imagine Mario slipping the news to someone, out of frustration or as a form of leverage.

“Well…yes.” I said. That much was true.

He beamed. “Oh, congratulations! I can’t tell you how happy I am—how happy we all are—for the two of you. Tell me, have you decided on a date for the wedding?”

“Toadsworth, I—“ I said, hesitating. “I turned him down.”

His face turned grave. “Did you, now?” He pulled out a chair for me. “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me all about it?”

I sat. “I don’t know quite how to explain it.”

He watched me kindly. “My dear, if you’re worried about our approval, let me put those worries to rest. All of us consider Mario a most capable match for you. The way he drove off those putrid Koopa! Quite something. The whole kingdom has been rooting for you two to tie the knot since he brought you back home all those months ago.”

I stared down at my hands. “It’s not that...I told him I needed more time. That I didn’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Understandable. But in this case, I think you need not fear. Everyone in the kingdom can see how perfectly the two of you complement one another.”

A hard knot was forming in my stomach. “You say that,” I said quietly. “But what if…what if I don’t think it’s going all that well?”

He was silent for a moment. “I would remind you, again, that your options are limited. Mario is of your kind and fully capable of producing an heir. He is a far superior choice to any of the Beanish nobles we were considering. Indeed, he seems almost heaven-sent. Furthermore, the esteem he holds in the eyes of the common people is nothing short of astonishing. And no wonder—given his success in the war and his labors on behalf of the nation, I myself must admire him!”

“Think of it, Peach—the princess regent and the savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, united in matrimony! We would be fools not to seize the opportunity. In fact, I do not hesitate to say that he would make a great Mushroom King in the manner of your father.”

His smile was kind. “So put aside your fears—they will soon pass, I’m sure. Whatever worries you will be dealt with in time. And if not, endurance is a sacrifice you must be willing to make. The people need a leader like Mario, and they need your help to make it happen. At times, you must act for the good of the people, even when it goes against your own desires. One must do as duty demands.”

I didn’t answer. I just nodded, mutely, and went back up to my room, feeling sick to my stomach.

Toadsworth’s words churned around in my head for days, but I couldn’t make myself believe them. A shadow had fallen between Mario and I, and while it lingered, I couldn’t bring myself to marry him. So I continued to refuse Mario’s request, and he continued to stew, growing more and more incensed at being rejected.

One night, as the two of us were slipping into bed, Mario turned to me and went into his sales pitch once more. “C’mon, Princess, what makes you think it wouldn’t work out between us? We’ve got great chemistry—you’re sexy as hell and I drive you wild every night—we both love this kingdom, I’m strong, I’m brave, I cook—”

“For God’s sake, Mario, will you give it a rest?” I snapped. “I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about it. Now quit badgering me.”

“That’s not fair,” he snarled. “That’s not fair to me at all, Peach. I saved you from a monster and this is all the thanks I get? You owe me a hell of a lot more than that.”

“Owe you?” I demanded. “Mario, what makes you think I owe you anything? I gave you my home, my kingdom, even my bed. Don’t you dare say I haven’t let you have everything I could.”

He was barely listening. “You woulda given all that to any man who slipped under your sheets. I saved your goddamn life, and you won’t even do this one little thing for me. Talk about ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” I said, eyes narrowing. “I give you the food you eat and the clothes on your back. Not to mention I put you in front of your crowds of adoring fans. I don’t have to do that, you know. Want to see ungrateful? I could throw you out, if you like. See if you last five minutes on your own.”

“Fine,” Mario spat. “See if I give a damn. _Your Majesty.”_

He rolled over to face the wall, and I realized I’d gone too far. I started to say something, but he interrupted my thoughts.

“Who’d you do it with, anyway?” he muttered.

“What?”

“I mean, how’d you lose it?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Princess,” he snapped. “Your virginity. Who busted you open? ‘Cause it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“That’s a very personal thing to ask someone,” I said carefully. “And you know what? I don’t really feel like answering that right now.”

“Figures you’d say that,” he grumbled. “You can’t even tell me who got to you before me. Lemme guess, it was one of those damn Toads. Broke you open with a tentacle or whatever they have down there. Was it that Toadsworth? He always seemed like a perv to me.”

I flinched. “Of course not, and I’ll thank you not to talk such rot about a good man, and a friend. I don’t see why you care, anyway. What does it matter to you?”

“It’s got everything to do with me,” he insisted. “How am I supposed to know who’s laid their ugly hands on your body before me? How do I know you haven’t had hundreds of men in this bed, sliming up the sheets?”

“Well, I haven’t,” I spat. “Are you happy to hear that?”

He wasn’t. “I got no reason to believe a single word you say. You know that, right? For all I know, you go off with some Toad every time I’m outa town.” A manic gleam entered his eyes. “Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it? You’ve got some other sweetheart on the side. That’s why you don’t want to marry me. I’ve seen your type before. Am I right or am I right?”

I stared at him. Had he been drinking? But no—I didn’t smell a drop of alcohol on his lips. “No,” I said flatly. “You’re wrong. Has it ever occurred to you I just don’t want to marry you?”

“Why?” he demanded. “I’m strong, I’m brave, I’m loyal—”

“I used to see it that way,” I said. “But it’s become increasingly clear that you’re arrogant and paranoid, and you won’t listen to a damn thing I say. I’ve half a mind to send you back through that portal and lock the gate.”

He laughed nastily. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Throw me away forever, like I never did nothing for you. But here’s the thing, Princess.” He was smiling now. It wasn’t a nice smile. “You can’t get rid of me.”

“Think about it for even one second,” he said. “I’m the man who saved the goddamn Mushroom Kingdom. Right here. Nobody else. I’m your hero, and the whole kingdom knows it. And the minute you try to mess with me, the whole country is gonna hate you for it. You won’t have a throne to sit on by the time they’re done with you. I can make life hell for you, believe me.”

“Your court loves me. Your subjects love me. Seems you’re the only one who feels any different. Like playing those numbers? Besides, without me, you’re outa luck. I know all about how you gotta have an heir. Find someone to pass on the blood. Yeah, I’ve heard your people talking about it. If not me, who’s it gonna be, huh? Some Toad? One of those weird bean people? Face it, Princess: I’m the best hope you’ve got. You can’t afford to get rid of me, and you know it.”

He snickered. “You stupid woman. You thought you’d throw me out on my ass after everything I’ve done for you. Well, guess what? You’re not calling the shots here. I’m staying whether you like it or not. You’re stuck with me.”

His words stung, but I knew he was right. It was too late to get away from him now.

He reached for me. “So you might as well marry me, ‘cause I’m staying around. Now get over here—”

I pushed his hands away. “Leave.”

“What?” he said, furious. “But I just got here!”

“Maybe you’re right, Mario,” I said breathlessly. “Maybe I have been a stupid, stupid woman. Maybe I can’t do a thing to get rid of you. But this is my home and my kingdom. And I’ll be damned if I let you anywhere near me when you’re hurling such abuse. Tonight you can sleep in your own damn bed.”

I opened the door just a crack and stuck my head out to see the two guards stationed there.

“Pardon me,” I said. “But could one of you please take Mario down to his quarters? He’s feeling rather ill tonight and so won’t be staying with me. It’s all right, you can come in, I’m decent.”

Mario looked furious, but he saw that he had no choice. Scowling, he pulled on his shirt and laced up his shoes as the guard waited for him. As they were slipping out the door, I leaned over and whispered:

“Don’t ever forget that I can make life hell for you, too.”

The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.

God, what a night. I half wished Mario was still here so I could throw something at him. I settled for launching a pillow at the door. Then I wrapped a coat around myself and went out onto the balcony.

It was a clear night. The stars and moon were out in full force, and a cool wind was blowing, whipping my robe and my hair about. I stared out over the dark battlements for a while. I could see a few lights left on in windows below. Somewhere down there, Mario would be getting ready to sleep in his own bed, alone.

It had been a mistake to ever bring him into the castle. I knew that, now, and I felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

I’d hoped to start anew, to build a life that didn’t involve running away from my kingdom. And I’d hoped that Mario would be the kind of man who’d help me find such a happy ending. In that, I’d been proved astoundingly wrong.

It wasn’t as if Mario didn’t fit in with the kingdom. Quite the contrary: its people loved him, and he lived for their approval. But for all the wrong reasons. More than anything else, he sought the roar of the crowd. Whatever he said to the contrary, he enjoyed his sudden rise to fame and power. What could his old life as a humble plumber provide him now? He’d stumbled into a world where everyone adored him. Where his every wish could be granted. And I was the key to keeping him there.

Mario wasn’t a complicated man. He wasn’t the sort to play games with the fates of nations, or gamble lives on a large scale.  But he wasn’t above manipulating people to get what he wanted. I’d been his biggest prize of all. With the regent of the kingdom on his side, he could go anywhere and do anything. It was so obvious, now. His compliments, his affections—they’d all been a show, designed to get him into my arms. Into a place of power. All the better if we could be married, for then his position would be unassailable.

He’d wanted my body. My resources. My subjects. He’d never wanted me.

And maybe he’d never admitted this even to himself. Maybe he really did believe everything he said about justice, and victory, and freedom. Maybe, deep in his heart, he thought he was absolutely right. I had no way of knowing. But the fact remained that the kind and generous man I’d imagined was nothing more than a wishful dream.

And now—good god—I’d given over everything to this pretender. And now, as he said, I was stuck with him.

Or was I?

I stared out over the battlements for a long time, mulling the question over. Was I stuck with Mario? He was right, at least, in saying that I couldn’t get rid of him. He’d wormed his way too far into the kingdom to be extracted now. I tried to imagine—what, exiling him? No, it was laughable. They’d be banging down my doors. Toadsworth and the rest would have him brought back within the day. Even trying to cut my ties with him would be near-impossible. The populace, damn them, would be furious to hear that their beloved leader was no longer dating their cherished hero.

But what was I supposed to do, then? I knew I couldn’t live like this any longer, in silence and boredom and crushing loneliness, in the company of a man who barely acknowledged me once he left my bedroom. Was he right? Was this all I had to look forward to?

Or was there another way?

Maybe I couldn’t get rid of Mario. Maybe I couldn’t escape the stifling traditions of my advisors or the expectations of the Mushroom people. But I could work around them. I could be clever. I could say one thing and do another. I could sneak away and meet with people who cared about the things I cared about. I could find love again, and never let on to Mario. If I was careful, if I was thoughtful, if I made the most of every opportunity the world handed me…then maybe, just maybe, I’d have some part of my life that was all my own.

It was a hell of an idea, but it gripped me. Frightened me. I felt as if I was standing not on a balcony, but on a precipice, and the dark void below me was the edge of the world. One more step, and I would be gone. But I couldn’t stay here any longer.

Not any easy thing to do, though, taking that step. How does one even begin something that ambitious? Where was I supposed to start? I stared out into the night. Well, what did I want, really?

More than anything else, I realized, I just wanted someone to talk to.

Well, if that was what I wanted, I could always send out a letter.  It had worked once before, hadn’t it? I had to laugh at myself a bit for that. Yes, it certainly had.

And without warning, I found myself missing Bowser. I hadn’t seen him in such a long time. I knew he was still on the throne, at least according to the latest reports. But I had no idea what he was doing now. I wondered if he was all right. I wondered if he ever thought of me.

And I had to laugh again, out loud this time. How far I’d come from the frightened child who wanted nothing but to forget Bowser and get as far away from him as possible. I thought back on what I’d told him: I wanted to start again. To live without running away from my people. To try somebody new.

Well, I’d tried all that, and here I was. Tangled up with a man who didn’t give a damn about me and missing a demon from another kingdom. For all Bowser’s faults, for all his secrets and lies, he’d been nothing like Mario. To Bowser I’d meant something more than sex and luxury. He’d listened to me. He’d inspired me. He’d made me feel like I mattered.

Even his manic, half-conceived plan of kidnapping me—even that I could forgive, and almost understand. Mario had never cared. Bowser’s problem had been that he cared too much. His need for companionship was almost dangerous. But in those last moments, as we parted, I thought I’d sensed a change in him. He’d finally willed himself to let go.

What was my plan, then? To dump myself on Bowser’s doorstep and start this whole mess over again? No. I couldn’t leave the kingdom in shambles again. But maybe I didn’t have to go that far. A conversation might be enough. Just the chance to catch up. To find out how things had changed among the Koopa I knew. To chat about Alpto and Ripedeu one more time. After that…who knew?

And if that plan fell through, if for whatever reason reconnecting with Bowser just didn’t work out, then I’d look elsewhere. I’d send out letters to every corner of the globe until I found someone I could talk to. One way or another, I had to escape from the monotony of this life. I had to find some way to make it all matter again. I had to make my life my own.

And no one would understand. My advisors and my subjects would have no idea why I was reacquainting myself with the fiend who had waged war on their kingdom. Let alone why I might be interested in striking things up with him again. And Mario—Mario would see it as the ultimate betrayal. But it didn’t matter.

I couldn’t talk to anyone about this. No one, not a soul, would understand what I was about to do.

But I knew I had to do it.

In the end, I indeed chose a letter once again. I went back to the mailroom and snatched up an envelope. I took out my best quill and sat down at my desk, and I began to write. I wrote and rewrote for hours, trying to express what I really wanted to say. Finally, I had something I was satisfied with. I’d dodged most of my usual circumlocutions and avoided getting caught up in needless explanations. Everything I’d written boiled down to a single idea:

_I’d like to see you again._

I sent it.

Within the week, I received his reply. He, too, had clearly spent a long time trying to express what he wanted to say. But at the heart of his many words was this message:

_I’d like to see you again, too. Where would you like to meet?_

And I gave him an answer.

I managed to convince my advisors to let me attend a conference on agriculture in the Koopa capital. As a representative of the Mushroom people, I argued, my presence would help to indicate that both nations were able to put their wartime disagreements behind them and embrace this new era of peace. They weren’t happy, but they saw some diplomatic sense in it. They let me go, with only the smallest contingent of bodyguards. I didn’t tell them that Bowser  would be making a surprise appearance.

When the day came, I slipped away from my companions with some feigned excuse, Bowser snuck through the crowd with a spell—and suddenly it was the two of us again, darting off to find some Koopa restaurateur who didn’t ask too many questions.  Bowser looked thin, but there was a smile on his pale, familiar face. We nodded to each other, in the way of people who aren’t sure what the right greeting should be, but it was clear that we were both very happy to be here.

And over lunch we talked and talked, about everything that had happened since we last spoke, sharing thoughts both banal and profound, venturing into everything from silly tales of our wayward subjects to the most lofty, philosophical ideals. The hours drifted away like clouds, and we forgot our worries, and laughed as we hadn’t in a year or more.

Our glasses drained and our plates cleaned, both of us caught sight of the sun, which had fallen almost to the horizon.

“Well,” Bowser said slowly, “I suppose I’d better let you get back to your soldiers. I wouldn’t want them to think you’d gotten lost.” He laughed. “Although I certainly wouldn’t mind if they had to search a while longer.”

“They can wait,” I told him. “I’ve been thinking… I’d like to see the royal gardens again, while I’m here. It’s funny, but I’ve been missing the old place. Do you think we could drop by?”

He gave me a long, thoughtful look. “I don’t see why not. My carriage is around back.”

As two Koopa helped us into the carriage, Bowser turned to me. “You’re really sure you want to see the gardens? They’ve overgrown a bit, I’m afraid. ”

I nodded. “I’d very much enjoy it.”

We rode for a short time, and then we’d slipped through the outer gate once more. Bowser smiled to see my eyes light up as I glanced around the grounds, recognizing places I’d stood in that other, half-remembered time. I wished I’d paid more attention to the scenery when I had the chance.

We walked around the grounds as the sun set, and I asked Bowser a thousand questions about the topiary and sculptures, inquiring into things I didn’t remember or had never bothered to find out. He was happy to answer with a laugh.

And then we found ourselves up on a great hill, flowers waving behind us, with a broad view of the moor laid out beneath us, stretching all the way to the outer walls. The first stars were beginning to appear in the sky, and for a moment we just stood there, taking in the beauty of it all, and without thinking about it we clasped hands.

And then, very carefully, I turned, and I kissed Bowser, the King of the Koopas, for the first time in a very long time.  

After a moment he pulled away. “Peach,” he said gently. “You don’t have any obligations toward me. I want you to know that. I’m truly glad we got to spend this time together, but you don’t owe me anything more than that. I’ll be all right without you here. Honestly. I’m happy to know you’re happy. Go and live your life. I want you to feel free to do whatever you really want to do.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I want to do this.” And I kissed him again.

And this time, he returned the kiss, and we held each other before the brightening stars.

“Well,” I said after a while, breathless. “Shall we go up?”

He nodded. “Let’s.”

Hand in hand, we did.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

I think you’ve probably guessed the rest of the story by now. But, if you like, I can supply a few of the missing pieces.

Bowser and I spent a number of wonderful days together. Then, of course, Mario came knocking on our door. We should have seen it coming, I suppose, but we were woefully underprepared. The two of us were new to this game, after all. When word reached us that a furious plumber was heading our way, we panicked and scurried about, trying to think of the best way to address the problem. Finally the two of us hit upon the perfect solution:

Pretend that the kidnapping had happened all over again, and I’d been no more than a captive the entire time.

It sounded crazy, but it was the only thing that would work. If Bowser could play upon Mario’s idea of him as a greedy monster, and if I could persuade him that I’d been dragged here against my will, we might be able to get away with this one scot-free. It would make perfect sense to Mario—he’d built his reputation on the end of the war. Reenacting it would be like following a well-worn trail. And if we made our moves right, Mario would follow right along with us.

Incredibly, we succeeded.

We did everything over again, with melodramatic flair. We sent a small squadron to hold Mario at the gate, and he easily forced them into a surrender. Bowser met him in the heart of the castle, ranting and raving like a madman about how he’d “captured the fair maiden once again” and “the Princess belonged to the Koopa Kingdom.” I imagine Bowser enjoyed the chance to be theatrical and absurd. They dueled again atop the broken bridge, and again Bowser allowed himself to be thrown into the lava. And then Mario came once more to the captured maiden. To me.

The door creaked open, and I had to suppress a shiver at how similar it all was. There Mario was, ragged and dusty from the fight. Here I was, in the same dim room, tied to the same chair. It was eerie.

Mario staggered in, a mess. Then he spotted me. He blinked. Then he shook himself, as if dislodging a familiar memory from his head.

“Princess,” he demanded, “just what in hell happened here?”

He’s confused, I thought. He rides on over to the Koopa Kingdom imagining the worst, with all manner of nasty things to say to me. But when he arrives, he finds a different picture entirely. A familiar one. Dragon and maiden, all over again. Now he doesn’t know what to think.

I put on my most earnest, anxious voice and perform. “Oh, thank God you’re here, Mario,” I say eagerly. A little too eagerly. “They snatched me up before I knew what was happening—I tried to escape, but there were too many of them—I didn’t know what to do!”

He glared at me, still scowling. “You weren’t expecting him there or nothing? You didn’t run away, looking to get captured? You didn’t do this on purpose? Did you? Answer me!”

“Of course not,” I lied. “It was the Koopa King. He’s obsessed with me—can’t get over what happened in the war. He wanted to torment me.”

And I told him the grand story I’d concocted, how Bowser had appeared from nowhere and dragged me away from the conference, how his minions had imprisoned and mocked me and left me alone in the darkness, how Bowser had tried to get me to yield to his advances, but I valiantly refused, thwarting his wicked aims. I couldn’t help but think I sounded ridiculous, but Mario drank it all in, wide-eyed and silent.

I thought he’d interrogate me, searching for holes in my story. Instead I found Mario nodding, yanking apart my bonds. “I shoulda known that old bastard would try something like this,” he declared. “Can’t keep his filthy claws away from you, huh? Well, I put him back where he belonged for sure, and by God, I’ll do it again if I have to.” He threw the ropes to the ground. “C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of this place.”

As he turned, his gaze, ever briefly, met mine, and I flinched. Was I imagining it, or had I seen something there? Something hard and cruel? Suspicion? Anger? Whatever it was, it was gone now. Relieved, but still nervous, I followed.

Only once on the long journey home did Mario say anything more. Abruptly, he turned to me and broke the silence. “You said you never let him touch you?” he asked sharply. “Not even once? Not even for a tiny little moment?”

“No,” I insisted. “He never had the chance. He spent most of the time mocking and arguing with me, anyway. He was too crafty for a direct approach.”

“Yeah, he would be, wouldn’t he?” Mario said thoughtfully. He looked closely at me. “You didn’t give it to him, huh? You didn’t like him? You didn’t want what he was offering?”

I stared out the window, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Of course not. I’ll have you know I can’t stand the sight of him.”

He nodded sagely. “That’s what I like to hear. You better stay far away from him, then. Otherwise, you might get a little too closer than you want to be.” His voice was low and cold. “And I don’t think any of us want that.” And he turned away again.

For the rest of the ride home, I tried to figure out what Mario was thinking. He’d seemed to accept my story. So why was I still afraid? And why did he keep throwing suspicious, almost fearful glances my way? Was he testing me? Did he still suspect the truth? I had no idea. All I could do was wait and see.

But we’d made our plans well. The kingdom accepted my story without question, though my advisors were aghast to learn that Bowser was not only still pursuing me but had managed to get past their bodyguards. They scolded me for slipping away and resolved to tighten up security. Mario swore to aid them.

Naturally, Bowser and I had to pull the stunt again.

And again. And again, and again, and again. You know by now that it was a thrill the two of us couldn’t resist. Under the pretext of being kidnapped, I kept slipping off to see Bowser, and Mario kept bringing me back. And every time, the advisors would wring their hands over Bowser’s latest wickedness, and plan with Mario how they were to outwit the Koopa King. They couldn’t, of course. Not when he had someone on the inside.

And each time Mario burst into the castle and found me, bound and waiting,  he would barrage me with the same questions: had I meant for it to happen? Had I wanted to see Bowser? Had I let him get anywhere near me? He would stand there, quivering with anger, until I looked him in the eye, and lied, and told him I had not.  My lies seemed to satisfy him. He’d shake his head at Bowser’s villainy, and take me home in silence. And I’d be free to begin the cycle all over again.

But there was a tension between us, and I think both of us felt it. We were still polite to each other, as cordial as we’d ever been. He’d dropped all talk of marriage, for which I was grateful. But Mario never quite met my gaze, and I thought I knew why.

I’d shaken him.

Looking back on the things I’d said, it seemed obvious now. He’d taken my halfhearted attempt at a threat as a serious matter. When I’d vanished, he’d thought I meant to punish him for overstepping his boundaries, that by consorting with Bowser I wanted to show that I could send his whole world crashing down. I didn’t play such games, but that didn’t keep the idea from terrifying him. So much so that it was easier to flee from it by accepting my version of the story. And he had; I was sure of it. But there would always be that tiny sliver of doubt. Hence why he had to keep asking: no matter how many times he received my answer, he would never know for sure.

Or so I’ve guessed, since. I have no more answers than he does.

And so between the three of us, the same story happened so many times over that it took on the heightened quality of a myth or a folktale. To the people of the Mushroom Kingdom, I suppose it was. Each different iteration only made it more clear to the Toads that the princess would always be captured, and it would always be the valiant plumber who rose to save her from the monster’s claws. The setting, the circumstances might change—sometimes I’d slip away while we were visiting foreign lands, sometimes I’d distract Mario with a misleading invitation—but however it was told, it was the same story. The princess’s departure. Her absence. Her return.

Not a story I ever expected to tell. But knowing that I’d see Bowser again helped make life bearable. When I returned home, I always felt renewed, capable of leading my people to a better future. I could even tolerate the long, dull hours with Mario, knowing that the world had other things in store for me. So what if my advisors fretted and insisted on protecting me with absurd restrictions and red tape? It was worth it in the end.

And though Mario never would have thanked me for it, I think he got more out of my departures than he let on. He had the chance to play the hero not once, but over and over. Each time, he drank in the glory, making passionate speeches before roaring crowds about the evils of the Koopa kingdom. Every victory reaffirmed his valor. He loved every moment of it.

Save, perhaps those he spent with me. Mario and I continued our appearances together, and our dalliances, but these felt more like obligations than anything else. I tried to enjoy myself when such events arose, but it was difficult not to think only of the moment when I could slip away.

Years went by as the three of us we played our little game. We grew used to it, or Bowser and I did, anyway. Comfortable, even. Still, I had certain limits I insisted on. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to want to see Bowser in his true form again. Ever.  Bowser accepted this as part of our arrangement, and always made sure he wore the face I knew. And we tried to stay in the present. We never discussed what had happened between us, or what we had lost.

And somehow it worked. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was a life we could count on. And we were, in our way, content.

That, you might think, would return us to the present day, to this moment in which I lie here in this all-too-familiar bed, trying to enjoy myself before the rescue comes crashing down.

Almost. There’s still one more story to tell.

It was just after the summer festival. Back in my kingdom, the taxes had been filed, the council had was putting the seal on the paperwork for  another  agricultural season, and all of us were looking forward to taking some well-deserved time off.

The idea of taking a real vacation was floating around, particularly among the advisors, who were eager to set paperwork to the side for a few weeks. Naturally, Mario and I were to head the party. “Just think, Your Majesty,” they told me. “Sun, surf, sand, gentle breezes blowing, and no responsibilities! Surely you can’t say no to a break like that!” In the end I agreed. What the hell. I could do with a vacation.

It was Toadsworth, I think, who first suggested a small tropical island called Delfino, in the warm southern seas. Officially, it was its own sovereign nation, with its own people, the Noki and Pianta. But several nations had resorts and other holdings there, including the Mushroom Kingdom. The Hotel Delfino had been in our possession since my grandfather’s time. So, feeling adventurous, twenty or so of us packed up our bags and went.

I don’t think we quite anticipated what we were in for there.

Certainly I don’t think any of us expected Mario to be arrested by local authorities the moment we arrived. He had to spend the better part of a night in prison while we sorted the whole mess out. As it turned out, someone with a grudge against Mario had been impersonating him in the hope of ruining his reputation, defacing public property and, worst in the minds of the locals, smearing some kind of pollutant around their pristine beaches. In the end, we agreed to a settlement—Mario could go free, but only if he agreed to help clean up the mess the imposter had made.

Mario fumed privately at being treated so ungraciously, but I think some part of him also saw an opportunity. Show that he was happy to volunteer his services and thereby win the respect of the Noki and Pianta as the man who cleaned up the island. Throwing a waterpack over his shoulder, he got to cleaning.

We found out who was behind all the trouble soon enough. On an off day, we decided to pay a visit to the local amusement park, over on a smaller isle called Pinna. Mario had a few cleaning duties there, but not many, so we figured we could spend a little extra time on the rides after the work was done.

As I approached the world-famous roller coaster, marveling at its twists and loops and dizzying turns, something enormous stumbled out of the darkness behind the ride and lurched toward me.

It towered over me, all mechanical parts and chunks of metal that looked as if they’d been taken from scrapped rides in dark and dusty warehouses. More than anything it looked like some enormous metal man, with two metal arms, two legs, two hands, and two metal feet. There was a shell-like protuberance in the back, and something that looked like a head and face, with large, canine jowls. I squinted—hadn’t I seen this face before, for a moment, in a child’s bedroom, and on the gargoyles in a vast garden? Even the horns and spikes  were in the right places.

I stared, caught between the perfectly sensible desire to run and curiosity about what this gargantuan thing might be. Whatever it was, it didn’t look like it had been put together by the brightest of mechanical minds. Pieces kept falling off and then rejoining its body with a faint blue glow. Was the whole thing just held together by magic? It seemed so.

Near the foot of the thing stood a figure, and for a second I thought it was Mario. But it wasn’t Mario. It was as if someone had drawn a bad illustration of Mario and gotten all the details wrong. The nose was too small, the moustache crooked, the ears stuck out at a funny angle, and every so often, the whole image would flicker blue. The figure leapt onto the jumble of parts and made its way up to the head. Then the machine stopped, and I realized it was reaching for me. I tried to run, but it was too fast. I found myself in the air, and then thrown into some interior pocket of the machine. A hatch sealed, leaving only a tiny sliver of light.

I heard muffled noises all around me, and then silence. I felt a sense of movement, and I thought I could smell sea air. Then, abruptly, a shaft of light appeared above me, and a rope ladder was thrown down. An odd, raspy voice spoke above me. “Come on up, Mama Peach!” it said. Wondering if I’d heard right, I climbed up. And there he was.

My heart skipped a beat. There were a number of reasons for this. For one, we appeared to be hovering a hundred yards over the surface of the ocean. I could see the side of the main island not far to the south. We were riding in a small bowl in what had once been the head of the machine, now separated from its body. The bowl felt deep enough that I wasn’t afraid of falling out, but I could still easily see over the sides if I chose. It was a flying machine, not much different from those Bowser had been experimenting with lately.

But what caught my attention most of all was the green-shelled figure who stood at the front of the vessel, jabbing at it with a glowing wand. I knew that shape. A spiny shell, a shock of red hair, scaly yellow arms and legs—it was the monster I’d never wanted to see again. But so much smaller. It couldn’t be Bowser, no—it had to be—hadn’t there been a child, a boy? And I remembered. The loss had hurt so much that I’d done everything I could to try to forget, but I remembered: I’d had a son, a beautiful baby boy, and while I’d been gone that smiling infant had grown up, and here he was.

But into what? I remembered the other thing in the crib, and I flinched, and I prayed he wouldn’t turn around, please—But he did anyway, and he beamed at me with his yellow eyes and his canine smile, full of razor-sharp teeth.

I stumbled backward and fell onto the cold metal as he approached me. “Mama!” the creature rasped. “I’m so glad you’re here! I did it, Mama Peach! I found you and brought you back and now you can come home with us and we can all be together again!”

I blinked. So he knew. Had Bowser sent him? It didn’t seem like his style. “What do you mean?” I asked weakly. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at him. I could barely even think about the creature that was here, breathing not even a foot away from me.

He shifted nervously. “Well, it’s just like Papa said. Whenever I used to ask him about my mama, he always told me that my mama was a beautiful princess named Peach, and she got kidnapped by a bad man named Mario.” He brightened. “So I decided to bring you back home so you wouldn’t have to be gone anymore. I thought of it all by myself, Mama! Aren’t you proud of me?”

Oh, God. I hoped he hadn’t said anything revealing to Mario. I couldn’t deal with this. Not here, not now. Not my son coming back in this twisted form, as if from the dead.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s been a mistake,” I told him shakily. “I’m not your mother. You can just drop me off at the island.”

He screwed up his face, which didn’t help matters much. “But you have to be her!” he cried. “I went all this way to find you, and I disguised myself, and I made that giant Koopa machine, and I rode in Papa’s airship! I’ve been studying magic like him, look, look—” He held up the wand, and momentarily that strange image of Mario flashed before me. “And I can do fireworks, too, wanna see?” he added helpfully.

“No—no, thank you,” I stammered. “Did Bowser—did your father ask you to do this? Come and fetch me?”

He looked a little nervous. “Well, no…he told me you were staying here like us, but he said not to bother you or anything. It’ll be okay though, ‘cause when he sees I brought everybody together he won’t have to be so worried all the time.” He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot again. “He wouldn’t tell me anything at all at first. I had to keep asking and asking until finally he said that my mama could only come over sometimes, and she had to spend the rest of her time with mean old Mario.”

He kicked at the ground. “And I asked him why she couldn’t be around all the time, but he wouldn’t explain.”

Something clicked. “Your mother’s not really around often enough, is she?” I asked slowly.

He nodded. “Uh-huh. Papa’s okay, but he always has to work on important king stuff, and then we can’t play or build with stones or read stories or anything. I asked mean old Kamek if he wanted to play, but he always says no. And the older kids don’t want to play, either. Except Roy—he’s okay. He’ll play sometimes. But they’re not around very much either.”

He poked at the floor with his strange staff, drawing circles. “And I just don’t understand why everybody has to be so far away and keeping secrets all the time. Everybody in the storybooks has a mama and a papa. It’s not fair. One of the kids in the books, his mama would always stay up late with him and read stories in bed. And I just thought that would be really nice. So I went to find you.”

He was lonely, I realized. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? He lived all alone with his busy father in a big, empty castle, with no children like him to play with. And he’d never known his mother. She’d forgotten him. I’d loved him, but I’d tried to forget him, because I was afraid of him. Afraid of what he meant and what he was. And for years now, I’d come and gone from his house without even a word for him. Shame washed over me like a wave breaking on the shore. How could I cast him aside like that? It was a miracle he didn’t hate me.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. It wasn’t a pretty face, with its yellowish eyes and its wolflike grin, but there was nothing cruel or evil about it, either. He was smiling at me. It was a shy smile, with the nervousness that comes of meeting an important relative for the first time. And for the first time, I could see that he was a child. He’d even tied a bandanna with some kind of jagged pattern on it around his neck. This whole time he’d been playing cops and robbers.

I couldn’t look at that face for very long. But I could listen. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cool metal. “Why don’t you tell me more about the stories you’ve been reading?” I said. “I’d love to hear more about them.”

His voice bubbled with delight, and for a moment, I could imagine a boy like any other standing there. “Okay!” he chirped. “Well, my favorite story is the one where the boy grows up in a forest, and then he has to go on an adventure…”

As he spoke, he sat down next to me, and I took his hand. The scales and the claws were strange, but I was glad to feel his presence. And when he squeezed my hand, with a child’s intensity, I squeezed back.

As we flew, we talked of so many things: all his favorite writers and stories, the camping trips he and his father had taken to the northern wilds, the alteration and illusion spells he was already learning to cast, the kind of games he liked to play when there was someone around to play them with. We were so engrossed in conversation that it took me a moment to notice we’d touched down.

Junior noticed, though. “Look, look!” he cheered. “We’re here, Mama! Come and see!”

I took a look around me as I stepped out. Far below I could see the tiny windmills of Bianca Hills and even the streets down in Delfino Plaza. Ah, of course—we were on the slopes of Mt. Corona, the central volcanic peak that had given the island most of its shape. I hadn’t thought much on it, but the Koopa nation owned some property here. Mostly bathhouses—and probably something involving lava for the royal family.

“Have you and your father been staying at the hot springs?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I like the water here, it’s so warm and gooey.” He grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go see Papa!” I followed as he bobbled along the slope.

Soon we’d come to an arched entrance to some sort of cavern, where a number of Koopas were milling about. We ignored their squeaks of surprise and darted past them, into the caves. Up ahead, I could hear the sounds of voices arguing. I froze as I realized who that deep, booming voice had to belong to. But Junior pulled me onward, and we came to the chamber where three Koopa were having a heated discussion with their king.

He was huge, there was no doubt about it, reaching almost to the high ceiling, some eight or nine feet up. And there was no question that he made an alarming sight, with his profusion of horns and spikes, and gaping maw full of dagger-sized teeth. But somehow I was…surprised? Relieved? Was it just me, or were the claws gentler, the spikes rounder, the eyes brighter and more intelligent than those of the creature I’d seen all those years ago? I didn’t like looking at that face, but nothing told me to run away, either.

He noticed the boy first. “Junior!” he cried—and was I right in thinking the voice was not the crashing of thunder, but a warm rumbling, like fire in the hearth? “Thank God you’re all right! Do you know how badly you scared us? We’ve been looking for you for hours! You can’t run away from us like that, do you understand? You have to promise not to go running away again!”

“Sorry, Papa,” the boy chirped. “But look who I brought! Look who’s here!”

And then Bowser noticed me. He blinked. “Peach…? I…what are you doing here?” Then he looked from me to Junior, and back. “Oh, God, Peach, I’m so sorry. I told him you here, but specifically said not to bother you. I never imagined he’d…” He trailed off. “I just hope we haven’t ruined your vacation. My deepest apologies for all of this trouble.”

“It’s all right,” I said simply. “As a matter of fact, I’m glad I had the chance to meet our young friend here at last. He’s quite a charmer.” The boy beamed.

“I’m glad,” Bowser said. He turned to his son. “Junior, why don’t you go for another swim? We’ll join you in a minute.”

“But I wanna see Mama now!” he protested.

“There’ll be time for that later. Your…Peach and I need to talk for a minute.”

The boy scowled, but left with the Koopas. After they were gone, the beast that was Bowser turned to me with what looked like an apologetic expression.

“God, Peach,” he rumbled, “what must you think of me, looking like this? I’m afraid I don’t even have the right components for the spell; I left them at home. Here, let me—“

He retreated back into the darkness of the corridor so that his form was obscured. From here he looked like a huge black outline. “Is this better?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said. It was easier to talk to him this way.

“I swear I didn’t tell him to go find you and cause so much trouble—“ he began again.

“It’s honestly all right, Bow,” I said. “It’s good to see you, even under these circumstances.”

The black shape nodded. “It is. Why don’t you join us in the hot springs, since you’re here? I mean, if you have a spare moment or two. I’ll stay out of your way, and you can enjoy the superb accommodations here. What’s ours is yours.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”

As I followed him down the long corridors, I drew as close as I could to his ear. “Why didn’t you ever say anything about Junior to me?” I asked him quietly. “All those times we were together? Why didn’t you tell me how lonely he was? Or talk about how he was growing up?”

He seemed pained. “I didn’t think I should bring it up. I thought I could handle raising him by myself. And I didn’t want to burden you with memories of a time you regretted.”

“Maybe you should have,” I said, very quietly. But I don’t know if he heard me.

Bowser stayed true to his word, and went off to one of the warmer pools while I splashed around in the cooler waters with Junior. Honestly, I almost thought I wouldn’t have minded the king’s huge presence. I was already growing so used to Junior that I could relax and enjoy myself around him, even meet his reptilian gaze without flinching.

Marveling at myself, I toweled dry and changed back into my clothes. As I went back down the hallway, wondering what to do next, a familiar voice rumbled from around the corner. “Everything to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said. “I hope you—”

We were interrupted by a tremendous clamor, which sounded like it was coming from the entrance of the cave. Koopa were shouting, and there was a rush that sounded like water being sprayed. Bowser let out a long, low, hiss.

In a moment, a figure pushed his way past the Koopa crowd and forced them  back with a jet of water. They backed away, and Mario stood alone before us.

For a moment, no one moved. We just stared at each other. Then Mario spoke.

“Peach, what the _fuck_ is going on here?” he spat.

Oh, God. I thought I’d seen Mario angry before, but it was nothing compared to this. He was shaking with rage, every muscle in his face contorted with anger. He looked ready to strangle something. Play it cool, I told myself. Do what you usually do.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Mario!” I said, in my usual eager, breathless voice. “Bowser’s machines snatched me up at the park—I’ve been waiting for you to arrive for hours. Now we can—”

“Can it,” he sneered. “You don ‘t fool me one bit, ‘Your Majesty.’ I know everything. I know exactly what you’ve been doing, and I think it’s about time your kingdom learned exactly what you are.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” I lied. My heart was pounding in my chest.

“And don’t think I don’t see you, hiding over in the darkness,” Mario snarled. “You’re part of this just as much as she is.”

Slowly, Bowser stepped forward, looking pensive. He folded his arms and watched Mario with a frown, saying nothing.

“What’s wrong?” I asked desperately. “Mario, can’t you get me away from this creep so we can go back home together?”

“Playing dumb, as usual,” he jeered. “Seems like that’s all you’re good for. Here I was, all this time, thinking you were a noble, honorable woman. A lady with dignity and self-respect. And then what happens to me at the park today? What do I find out when I follow you over to the square?”

“I see this little figure moving toward you, and I can’t believe what my eyes are saying, ‘cause it looks like another me standing over there. And then this machine thing shows up and picks you up, gentle as can be, and puts you in a pocket. And then the guy who looks like me gets on the machine, and when he turns around, I see it’s all a disguise. It’s this ugly little goblin, holding up a wand, and he looks a hell of a lot like my old enemy Bowser.”

His voice was low and full of menace. “And when he starts talking to me, do you know what this little brat says? He gets up on the machine and starts ranting about how he’s  been spreading all this toxic stuff all over the island to make me look bad. How he’s gotta punish me for all my crimes. And yeah, Bowser’s his dad. You wanna know who he says is his mother is? I’ll let you guess.”

“And then he flies off with you, saying he’s gotta take you back to his dear old dad.” He was gnashing his teeth like some wild beast. “How long were you gonna hide this kid from me, huh? A year? Ten years? Forever?”

“Mario, I—”

“I knew it,” he growled. “I knew it. You’ve been making a fool outta me for God knows how long, and now you can’t deny it any longer. That little brat is living proof.” He pointed a quivering finger at Bowser’s massive frame. “You’ve been with him every stinking time we’ve let you out of our sight, letting your kingdom fall into ruins! Admit it!”

“Mario,” I tried to say, “I haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Bullshit,” he snarled. “You’ve been stabbing your kingdom in the back since I met you, without a drop a remorse. Oh, but you’ll be sorry, all right, when I tell ‘em all what kinda skank you are. They’ll all see. They’ll all know what you did to me.”

Every muscle in his body seemed to be shaking. His words were tumbling out, half-garbled, as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. “All those times I rescued you,” he spat, “all those times I gave my sweat and blood for your stinking kingdom and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. Oh, I could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t grateful, but I never thought you’d stoop so low. All those nights I was sleeping with you, and the whole time you were whoring yourself out to this bastard. Spreading his filth all over what shoulda been our marriage bed.”

He leered, his eyes wild. “That’s why you did it, isn’t it? You thought you’d take an ordinary Joe like me, build him up from nothing, and then bring him crashing down in fronta the whole kingdom. You wanted to make me into a goddamn clown. That’s what it was all about.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I never had any such plan.”

“Then it was ‘cause you were so desperate for attention,” he sneered. “It wasn’t enough to have men like me fawning over you, you wanted the whole world to look at you and see how many men you could tangle up in your slimy sheets—”

“No,” I repeated. “I never wanted anything like—”

He wasn’t paying the least attention. “Well, they’ll see you now, I’ll make damn sure of that. The whole world’ll know, you filthy slut, you stinking wh—”

“MARIO!” I snapped. “Please. Do me a favor and be quiet for a moment.”

He stared at me, stunned into silence for a second by my audacity. Then his eyes narrowed. “How dare—”

“You’ve had your chance to speak,” I said, talking over him. “Now it’s my turn.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t have to admit to anything. But I didn’t have to stand here and take this, either.

“I don’t know what you heard from Bowser’s son, but it’s not true,” I began. “And to be perfectly frank, I’m astonished that you’d resort so quickly to insults and abuse the moment you hear some incredibly flimsy claim. The very least you could do is bring your concerns to me, face to face, before hurling such accusations. The way you chose to handle the situation reflects poorly on you, I’m sorry to say. Very poorly.”

He was trying to stare me down, but I matched his gaze. “Furthermore, from the moment I met you, I’ve done my utmost to treat you with dignity and respect. I’ve shared my home with you, and welcome you into my kingdom. I’ve never thought of you as anything less than a partner.” I took another breath. “And I give you my word, upon my parents’ graves, that I have never done, nor will ever do, anything intended to hurt you.”

Mario stared at me for a moment. Then he shook his head, very slowly. “From someone else I might believe that, maybe. But I know what you’ve done. You can’t hide your guilt—”

We were interrupted by a tremendous sound that echoed off the walls. It took me a moment to recognize it as laughter. Deep, gut-shaking belly laughter. It was Bowser, guffawing at the two of us as if we were some joke he’d heard down at the local tavern. Mario and I stared at him.

“Oh, it’s just too much,” Bowser cried, cackling. “I should hold my laughter, but I simply can’t! It’s too hilarious, too delicious to see you two turned against each other! You rant like a madman about your maiden’s betrayal, never suspecting it was I who turned you two against each other all along! And so very easily, too! How quaint to see you lose your temper over nothing! It only proves that you’re an even bigger fool than I ever suspected!”

What was Bowser doing? I tried to meet his eye. Mario looked confused, too. “What’re you saying, you old lizard?” he demanded.

Bowser grinned, revealing his armory of teeth. “I’ve already told you, you wretched little carpenter, and you still don’t get it! You learned your oh-so-tragic tale from my son. Who do you think gave him his information? Who do you think sent him to your amusement park on the very day that you were cleaning? It was my goal all along to turn you against each other !”

Mario stared, open-mouthed. “Then—Peach isn’t the mother of that… _thing_?”

Bowser snorted. “Of course not! The logistics alone, man! No, I wanted to see if I could get you to fall for my web of lies. As it turned out, you were an utter chump! Tell me, how does it feel to have been so thoroughly bamboozled?”

“No,” muttered Mario, “I don’t believe it, I don’t, you’re lying, you must be.”

“Look it up in the Koopa records yourself if you so dare,” Bowser crowed. “They’ll tell you that in the first year of my reign, I married a Koopa named Luciotta! And they’ll tell you that Luciotta bore all my children! Important to keep track of such things, as the future of the throne is on the line! Ah, there it is! The truth hits home! Priceless!”

He was trying to give me a hint, I realized. He’d kept Junior and I far away from the dukes, telling them that they already had their heirs. Which meant—what? It meant in all likelihood, they’d probably stricken both of us from the record. And he was banking on the fact that Mario wasn’t the type to look closely at the details.

Mario was nodding. “It was all a ruse, then,” he whispered. “All just a ruse. He would try something like that, wouldn’t he? Yes, of course he would, he’s a filthy liar, he’s always been a liar. All a ruse.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself, to me, or to no one at all.

Bowser picked up on the mutterings. “It’s such a shame I had to go and spoil the show,” he simpered. “But I couldn’t resist the chance to gloat. It’s simply too funny how easy it was for me to drive the two of you apart.” He put on a nasty smile. “Perhaps this just goes to show how easy it will be for me to make the Mushroom Princess mine in the end.” He suddenly leaned closer to me, and I flinched. It occurred to me that this was probably the right reaction. “What do you say, sweetheart? Clearly he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

I was catching on. “Never, you miserable old dragon!” I shouted, throwing myself away from him with passion. “Get away from me! You’d better run and cower now that Mario’s here: he’ll make you pay for taking me away from my people and slandering my good name!” I ran over to Mario’s side. He looked surprised for a moment, then confidence shone in his eyes.

 “Yeah, get away from her, you overgrown frog,” Mario declared. “I knew all along that you were trying to trick me. Of course I did! Your ruse was so pathetic, a kid coulda poked holes in it. I was just testing you to see if you’d catch on. And testing Peach here. She passed, of course, ‘cause that’s just the kinda gal she is. Loyal to the end.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse us, the Princess and me are gonna make our way out of here. Unless you wanna try and stop us.”

“Certainly,” Bowser said, grinning with all his sparkling teeth. “What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t try to hold on to what I’d rightfully stolen?”

“Then it’s a fight,” Mario said. “Let’s take this outside, to that hill over by the entrance.”

“Agreed.”

And the two of them left, side by side, looking almost as if they were close companions, out for an afternoon stroll.

Meanwhile, I leaned against the rocky wall, listening to the distant sounds of their battle, relived, but wishing, for God’s sake, that these things didn’t keep happening to me.

After a while, Mario reappeared, pushing past Koopas to get to me. “Got him again,” he declared. “Now let’s head on outta here.” I followed him quietly, wondering if he would say anything more. My heart was still pounding.

“It was a hell of a battle, Peach, you shoulda seen it,” he told me as we made our way out onto the mountain slope. “I knocked him down on his back, spun him around by the tail—he didn’t even see it coming. You following me so far?”

“Yes,” I said, not paying much attention.

“But then—what do I see but that same little gremlin kid? His son.” He was watching me closely, I realized. “The kid comes up and tells me to leave his father alone. Then he starts tussling with me. Shooting magic spells and whatnot. Bet he thought he’d turn the tide of the battle. But guess what?”

I was afraid to ask, but I tried to smile. “What?”

He laughed, loudly and roughly. “I knocked the both of them off the slope! Sent em flying on down the hill. By now they’ve probably rolled all the way down to the shore. Serves ‘em right, huh?”

I tried to laugh. “Yeah.” I wanted to ask if they were all right. I imagined Mario’s cruel smile, his mocking laugh as he threw Junior off the slope. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

He snorted. “I could pulverize the brute a thousand times and he’d still keep asking for more. I’m betting it’s the same with that snot he calls a kid.”

We walked down the slope in silence, making our way down to the shore. I still couldn’t believe how narrowly we’d dodged disaster. I kept thinking about Junior, about him falling, falling, seeing his father humiliated by the same painful landing. After a while, Mario turned to me and said, “Ah, that little punk really had me turned around there for a while, didn’t he? Shoulda known Bowser’d try some clever plan like that. But of course I figured it out in the end.” He lapsed into silence again.

Yes, I thought. You could say that. Turned around. Play it off as a silly misunderstanding. Not a word of apology for the way you treated me. The insinuations you made. The insults you threw around. No, you laugh it all off as a mistake and act like you never said a word. I see right through you, Mario. You act as if it’s me who matters, me whose choices the world turns on. But I’m nothing to you. I’m just the prize for you to fight over. All that really matters is that you can have one more duel with your nemesis. All that really matters is the game.

Mario kept shaking his head as we picked our way past rocks and drew near the town below. “When I think about that nasty son of a bitch Bowser, and some of the tricks he’s pulled…man, it just makes me so mad I could spit. The gall of him, using his own kid to get at you. That’s something only a depraved creature like him could come up with.”

He pounded his hand into his fist. “And that’s why he needs to be taught a lesson. Who knows what kinda debauchery he’s capable of?” He looked furious. “God, Peach, if he had touched you, if he had touched you…”

He kept muttering as we walked down the slope, more to himself than to me. “If he had touched you…” he repeated, still shaking his head.

What? I wanted to say. If he had touched me, what? What would have happened then, in your mind? Would I have broken apart into a thousand tiny pieces? Would I have turned into a wicked demon and started dressing in black? Would I have given up a bodily prize to him that I’d lost long ago, and honestly didn’t think much of losing?  Would your fragile masculine pride have been shattered by a rival in my bed? Would I have surrendered some territory in the tiny, pathetic war between you? Would I have brought your game to an end? Just what would have happened, Mario?

But I couldn’t say any of that to Mario.

I couldn’t say anything at all.

We made it back to our group in due time. They were, as usual, concerned about my safety, but I managed to reassure them that everything was all right.  The vacation resumed with another few weeks in Delfino. I tried to enjoy myself on the now-sparkling beaches, in the spotless plazas, at the amusement park. I tried to smile for the photographs. But the whole time I kept thinking of a boy who’d done everything he could to find his mother. A boy, too often alone, who badly needed me.

On the way home, as I sat down next to Mario, something occurred to me. “Mario?” I asked.

He gave a vague grunt.

“I was just thinking about…about your father. You said he left the family when you were young?”

It was amazing how quickly fury came into Mario’s eyes at the mention of the man, even after all this time. “He sure did,” Mario growled. “Left only my mother to take care of the two of us.”

“I was just wondering…what was that like?” I said carefully. “I lost my parents, too, but I had the chance to know both of them for a long time.”

“It feels exactly like you’d think it feels,” he muttered. “It hurts. The worst part was knowing that he was out there, somewhere, and he hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t give a damn. That’s the thing that hurts, knowing you’ll never see him, never reach him.”

I swallowed. “I can’t imagine that’s a fun way to grow up.”

“No,” he said. “But at least I had my mama, working hard to give the two of us a better life.” His gaze darkened. “Why my father left her for that skinny young bitch, I’ll never know. I dunno what tricks that woman used to get him to leave, but she can rot in hell for all I care. I hope the both of them do. Good riddance.”

He went on for a while like this, speculating about the anonymous woman’s motives and methods. I wasn’t paying the least attention.

I was thinking about Junior.

And, not a month after leaving Delfino, here I am again. Lying with Bowser, the Koopa King, who’s soft and warm beside me. Tangled up in the sheets of his bed. Running two steps ahead of Mario. Staring at the ceiling. Still thinking.

I’ve been looking back over my life, and I still don’t know how I feel about it. Was it all worth it? Did I make the right choices? The faces I’ve known flash before me, voices echo, bombarding me with ideas, viewpoints, advice, insinuations: my father with his sagely wisdom, Toadsworth, admonishing duty, Bowser in his younger days, so eager to please, Mario, leaning in for a kiss one moment and furious the next, and Junior, who for all his strangeness only asked for a mother to call his own.

They all try to tell me what I’ve done, who I am. But they can’t answer that question. Only I can. I have to choose. And for the first time in a long time, I know what my choice is going to be.

I roll over and gently tap Bowser on the shoulder. “Bow?” I ask.

“Mm?” he says, turning around. His eyes are warm and kind. Does that mean he knows what I’m about to say?

My words come tumbling out all at once. “I was just wondering…how is Junior doing, these days?”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then smiles slowly. “He’s…he’s doing very well, as it happens. Full of energy as usual. Last week we started teaching him water magic. He’s taken an interest in boats and sailing since we were at Delfino. All we have here are the lakes and streams, but that’s enough to get started. So he’s…doing all right, all things considered.” He trails off. Both of us know what he isn’t saying.

“I was just thinking…” I stop. How do I even begin? “I was just thinking, when I was travelling with Junior…we spent a lot of time talking. Catching up, I guess. And I just…I think it would a shame, now that we’ve met, not to get to know him a little better.”

“How so?” he asks quietly.

I’m nervous, but I press on. “I mean, I really do admire the way you’re taking care of him, and I don’t think I have any right to criticize, but oh, Bow, he’s _lonely_ , and he doesn’t have many people to talk to. And he needs someone else in his life, and I think he’d like a mother who does more than drop by just to see his father every so often.” I swallow. “I’ve been gone so long, without saying even a word to him, and I’d just like to make it up to him. I want to be there for him. Be his mother in more than just name.”

He’s sitting up now, watching and listening. “What about Mario?”

“Maybe I’m done taking him into account,” I say fiercely. “Maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind and let the man work the rest of the details out for himself. I’ll do whatever I have to, Bow, I swear—I just have to make it up to my son. He asked me over and over if I was his mother. I’d like to be able to look him in the eye and tell him, ‘yes.’ ”

But Bowser is shaking his head. “Peach, I—I’m so sorry, Peach. We can’t tell him. He can’t know.” His voice sounds choked.

“Why not?” I ask in a small voice.

“It’s too late,” he says slowly. “Peach, I…I lied to him. I told him I’d that I’d been making up a story. Just as I told Mario. I told him you weren’t his mother after all.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask, shocked.

“Don’t you see, Peach?” he says, looking miserable. “The whole thing nearly fell apart because he knew. He’s just a child; he doesn’t understand how to keep secrets or live a double life. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. The way he looks at things, either we have to be right, or Mario has to be right. And he’d act on it. He’d go off taunting Mario again, or stealing you back, or trying to use spells he’s not ready for against him. I made a huge mistake telling him in the first place.”

He’s trying not to fall apart, but he keeps going. “Mario came so close to figuring out the truth, and…and I know what would happen if he did. He’d out you to the kingdom, do his best to humiliate you and turn everyone against you, and maybe he’d succeed. And I—I just couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let them do that to you, Peach. So I lied, and told Junior he wasn’t your child. So we wouldn’t risk everything again. I’m so, so sorry…”

I’m crying now, I realize. Tears are running down my face, but I try to smile through them. “No, you’re right…” I say weakly, because of course he is. “You’re right. I understand. It has to be this way. He can’t know.”

“Maybe…” he says. “Maybe one day, when he’s able to understand…”

“Yes,” I say, moving closer, wiping tears from my face. “Maybe one day, when he’s older…”

“Then we’ll tell him everything,” he says.

“Yes. Yes, we will.”

“And do you know what he said, when I told him all that?” he asks suddenly. “When I told him that I just made up a story to get him to hate my rival, Mario?” He smiles a sad smile, proud. “He said—it was okay, because he’d known what I was doing all along. He’d known it wasn’t true. But he said he didn’t mind, because he didn’t  like Mario either. And he’d help me get back at him, help come up with a new plan—we could do it together—”

And he’s crying, too, now. We’re both crying, holding each other, rocking back and forth on the bed, in the dark room. And we hold each other until all the tears have stopped.

And it’s then, much later, when we’ve made ourselves cozy once more, that I turn to him again.

 “Do you think there’s…any way I could still see Junior?” I ask quietly. “I mean…” I’m not sure if I’m making sense. “If I can’t be his mother, then maybe I can still be his friend?”

He looks thoughtfully at me with his bright eyes. And I can tell he understands. “I don’t see why not. He enjoyed talking to you on the flight, I could tell. So he remembers you as a good person, a friend of his father’s, who listened to him. I don’t think he’d mind having someone like that in his life. No reason we can’t make a little time for the two of you whenever you’re around.”

“Thanks,” I say. “That would mean a lot to me.”

“It’d mean a lot to me, too,” he says. “Tell you what…why don’t you join the two of us this fall, if you can spare any time after the harvest festival? Our experiments in the upper atmospheres seem to be paying off. According to our technicians, we ought to have a working space colony, fit for habitation, by the solstice. I’ve been planning to take Junior up there then, so I can give him a real taste of the beauty of the cosmos. You’d have a lot of time to see each of us, and you’d be far away from the kingdom for a while. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds perfect,” I tell him. “The only problem is, the fall’s usually our busiest time of year. It’ll be hard to get away from the advisors. You’ll have to rip the whole castle out of the ground just so you can get me along with it.”

He laughs. “I will if I have to.”

“But seriously, Bow, that sounds lovely,” I say. “I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

We’re quiet for a long time, just holding each other. Then, Bowser sighs a deep sigh.

“Ah, Peach,” he says, for once saying what we’re both thinking. “Do you think we can keep doing this forever?”

I think about it. I could say no. I could say what I sometimes believe. That it’s too much for two people, that the odds are stacked too heavily against us. But I’m not ready to give in just yet. “Yes,” I tell him, boldly. “You just watch us.”

He arcs an eyebrow and smiles. “You think we can do it?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “You just wait. Years and years’ll go by, twenty, or thirty, or more, and we’ll still be sneaking me away from Mario and doing our little charade. We’ll go on after we’re old and grey, and Junior is grown with kids of his own—”

He’s getting into it now, adding his own ideas. “We’ll go on after everyone else in our kingdoms has faded away, until the towers of the castle have crumbled and the border of every nation has shifted around a thousand times and been scrubbed from the land—”

I get excited, too. “We’ll go on after the continents rearrange themselves, after the sea dries up and the air’s been blown away, even after the sun swallows our planet up—”

“We’ll go on after the sun is gone, after it and all the planets have become part of some other star,” he says. “We’ll go on until the very last moment of time, until there’s not even the tiniest speck of dust left in motion, until the very last star in the universe burns out!”

“Yes,” I say. “Until the stars burn out. That’s how long they’ll be telling our story.”

He laughs. “The tale of how a brave dragon went to rescue a princess from a diabolical plumber.” He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “Or was it supposed to be the other way around? Maybe you were supposed to do the rescuing, I forget.”

“Oh, Bow!” I laugh, prodding him heavily in the ribs. Chuckling, he prods me right back, and suddenly we’re laughing and tickling each other and rolling around and kissing and embracing. Falling all over each other. And we’re talking and laughing, just as we did all those years ago. Just as we’ve been doing since. And here, in this moment, we’re happy. And for now…

That’s enough.


End file.
